


Blackbird

by liesel_fogel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 111,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesel_fogel/pseuds/liesel_fogel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio walks into a coffee shop hoping for just a mocha and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Treat

Antonio walked into the small bakery/coffee shop on a late autumn afternoon, the bell on the door jingling as he opened it, signaling his arrival. It was a tiny joint, inside the University's union building, nestled between a bank and a Subway. Since it was so small, there were just a few tables, shoved to the edges, and a small counter at the front where just one server worked.

The single person at the counter looked up at the sound of the bell ringing, and Antonio caught a glimpse of their face- bored, irritated, depressed, and radiantly, undeniably, beautiful. His name tag read, "Lovino Vargas," and Antonio made a mental note of that name.

A little nervous, he approached the counter. "

I'll have something sweet, please." He asked, not knowing what to get. This was not his first time at the bakery, but it was his first time seeing this new, fresh person.

"How about a mocha?" the words were mechanical, rehearsed, and yet as they spilled from the person- Lovino, his name was Lovino, wasn't it- Lovino's lips, Antonio found himself intoxicated by that voice, that little accent that hinted at something exotic.

"Sure."

"Would you like to add a bakery treat for just 99 cents, on our special offer?"

"I- Yeah, a treat- I'd like a treat," Antonio mumbled, suddenly incredibly self-aware that he hadn't showered that morning and that his shirt was on backwards.

Lovino nodded his head, as if to say, 'continue,' but Antonio didn't know what that meant. He stared at Lovino, tongue-tied. Lovino sighed.

"What treat would you like?"

"You." Antonio blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hands quickly, embarrassed. Lovino grew slightly pink but said nothing. "I- I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"How about a tomato and mozzarella pastry?" Lovino's words cut through Antonio's frantic apologies. Antonio nodded, glad Lovino had handled the situation.

"You- Your name is Lovino." Antonio pointed out, desperate to save himself in the eyes of Lovino.

Lovino looked up from taking the pastry out of the glass case where it was contained.

"Yeah. I know."

"I'm Antonio!"

"That'll be $3.99."

"My full name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo- do you live around here? I'm a student at the university- are you?"

"I just moved here from Italy almost a year ago. I work here and take classes on the weekends. I'm in the university studying abroad program, sort of. It's where they give top students from other countries scholarships. Cash or credit?" Antonio could detect the impatience in his voice but he couldn't say goodbye, not yet.

"Cash, please. I'm majoring in psychology. I'm hoping to become a therapist- what about you? What classes are you taking?" Antonio pulled out his wallet, deliberately taking longer than he needed to.

"I'm just learning how to not be a total fuck-up, basically."

Antonio was stunned. "Oh." He pulled out four dollars from his wallet, noticing with annoyance that that was the last of his money. He passed it to Lovino's outstretched hand, their hands touching for just a fraction of a second. Lovino quickly pulled away, looking down so Antonio couldn't see his face, but Antonio saw that the tips of his ears were red.

"I didn't know the university offered classes like that.." he attempted to keep up the conversation.

"They don't," Lovino replied briskly. "I'm not taking classes from the university. My younger brother got the scholarship- he's the genius. He's doing painting. I went with him after.." Lovino abruptly stopped talking and changed the subject. "I'm taking weekend classes at the community college twenty minutes away."

"Oh… I'm sorry.." Antonio felt like a complete dick for prying. Lovino held out his hand. "I already paid," Antonio said, confused.

"There's tax," Lovino said, still looking down.

"Shit," Antonio cursed, fumbling around in his pockets for spare change, for anything. "I don't have any money left."

Lovino looked up and around, as if someone could be watching them. Then he dug a crumpled dollar from his pocket and dropped it in Antonio's hand surreptitiously.

"Just this once," he warned, but Antonio hardly heard him, he was smiling so much.

"Thank you so much- I'm sorry, I'll pay you back later. When do you get off?"

"Nine PM, every night. Would you like it to go or for here?" Lovino printed out the receipt and handed it to Antonio.

"Here, please."

"When it's ready would you like me to bring you your drink and treat?" Lovino was back to business, grinding coffee beans with loud crunches that reminded Antonio of the sound of leaves crunching under his shoes.

"Sure. Thank you very much." Antonio sat down and unpacked his backpack. He had originally come with the intent of working on his homework, but he wasn't sure how much he would be able to get done. After a couple minutes Lovino appeared with a small plate and a pastry and a steaming mug. He was wearing an apron over a tight-fitting longsleeved black shirt and slightly ratty jeans, the bottoms frayed. When he bent over to place the mocha and pastry on Antonio's table, his shirt rode up and Antonio could see his slim waist.

"You look- I mean- it- the food- looks delicious," he stammered.

"Uh-huh."

"Wait- can you stay? Can we talk?" Antonio pleaded as Lovino turned and began to walk away.

"I have customers," Lovino said irritably.

"Please?"

Lovino sighed and walked back to Antonio's table. "After work," he promised begrudgingly. "I get off at 9."

"Thank you!" Antonio beamed up at Lovino, and he swore he saw Lovino blush before he turned quickly on his heel and hurried away, busying himself behind the counter.

Antonio checked his watch for the millionth time, inwardly groaning when he saw that it was still just 8:30. The stream of customers had slowed down considerably, and now the only people left in the coffee shop was him, Lovino, and an old lady determinably sipping her tea and solving the newspaper's crossword puzzle. Lovino started to clean up, wiping down the coffee machines and the counter and locking away the flavored syrups and coffee beans and so forth.

Finally the old woman raised the teacup with shaking hands to her chapped lips and downed the last few drops. Taking her crossword puzzle with her, she tottered off and out of the shop. Lovino took her teacup and sniffed it. He grimaced.

"She keeps putting whisky in her tea," he complained. Antonio laughed.

"I guess you could say she's got… high spirits," he joked. Lovino glared at him and started washing up the cup in the sink. Finally he finished and put it on the drying rack. He wiped his hands and pulled out a chair across from Antonio.

"So. Why do you want to talk." It wasn't really a question, more like an accusation of some sort.

Antonio shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Just thought it'd be nice to get to know you or something."

Lovino groaned and sat back in his chair. "Do you normally do this with all coffee shop baristas?"

"No, just you." Lovino rolled his eyes.

"I have to be out of here by 9:30. If you're still set on talking to me after then, we can go outside. There's a park by where I live if you

want," Antonio stared at him, dumbstruck. "What?" Lovino snapped. "You said you wanted to talk. So we're talking. That's it."

"Right, right." Antonio shook his head and stared into his empty mug, watching the milk foam coagulate at the bottom.

They sat in silence for a moment, Antonio staring awkwardly at the dregs of his mocha, when finally Lovino got the nerve to speak up.

"So are we gonna talk, or are we just gonna sit here wasting time?"

"Right. Sorry." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck. He had so many things he wanted to ask Lovino, but when the moment arose they

all abandoned him. "Um."

Lovino sighed. "I'll start then. Where are you from?"

"Spain, originally, but when I was fifteen we moved to America. You just came here, right? How are you liking it? This town, specifically?"

"It's all right. There's so many tall buildings, it's all urban. I can't see the stars. I don't really know much about this town, I don't know where anything is. I could look around, but I just get nervous in new places a lot and I don't know any people, and I get lost, and then I get really freaked out and anxious, so I go and kick dustbins and plastic flamingoes over. If there was someone who knew the city and was willing to show me around, that would be nice, but I don't have any friends." Lovino played with the wrapper of a sugar packet as he spoke, twisting it around and around until it tore. He sighed in annoyance and grabbed another sugar packet, twisting and twisting nervously.

"I could show you around, if you want," Antonio offered. "I've been here for a long time, so I think I know it pretty well. And I'm sure you have friends- even I have some!"

"There's my brother. And that's it."

"You should leave the house more! Go out, party! Woo!" Antonio raised his arms enthusiastically, as if he was dancing.

Lovino surveyed him with a look of half interest, half disdain. "I don't go to parties," he finally said, delicately, as though it were a painful subject. His hands, folded in his lap were suddenly a great interest. He stared at them, picking at his fingernails.

Antonio wisely decided not to pry further. He checked his watch. "It's 9:30," he said. "Should we go?"

Lovino looked up, startled. He looked at the clock on the wall and nodded. He stood up, stretched, untied his apron and folded it neatly and stored it under the counter, and then pulled on an old hoodie. He turned off the lights, adjusted the 'closed' sign, and then held the door open for Antonio.

They walked, silently, Lovino leading the way. Antonio noticed he was shivering and rubbing his arms.

"Don't you have a coat?" he asked. Lovino shook his head.

"Here." Antonio unzipped his coat and held it open. "Get in."

"You want me to get in your coat?" Lovino asked disbelievingly. Antonio nodded and made a 'come here' gesture. Lovino rolled his

eyes and stepped in. Antonio zipped the coat back up around them both, feeling Lovino's body pressed up against his. It was a nice feeling, sharing the body heat between the two of them.

"A wild Lovino appeared! Antonio used Pokeball! It's super effective!" Antonio joked. Lovino gave a sort of heavy exhalation and Antonio was confused for a moment, until he realized that Lovino had laughed faintly, as if he had forgotten how to laugh.

"You laughed!" Antonio exclaimed, astonished. "That's the first time I've heard you laugh!"

"You've only known me for a couple of hours. Stop acting as if we've known each other for years," Lovino huffed, although Antonio could see a weak smile entertaining his face.

Lovino took a step. Unfortunately, Antonio hadn't been expecting to walk just yet, and he toppled over on top of Lovino. Lovino attempted to shove him off, but forgot that they were sharing the coat and instead just fell on top of Antonio. Irritated, he tried to get off of him, but the coat was tight around both of them, and he was pressed back down, his face sticking out just above Antonio's shoulder. Antonio reached his arms out to unzip the coat, and for a moment he was tempted to instead pull Lovino closer, to never let him go. Instead, he unzipped the coat and Lovino climbed off of him, his face red.

Antonio got up and brushed himself off. He held the coat open again, but Lovino refused.

"I think I'll just go with being cold," he said. "The park isn't too far."

Antonio shrugged. "Suit yourself." They walked in silence for a bit.

"Keep to the right," Lovino warned him, as they took a shortcut through a dingy alleyway. There were no streetlights, and Antonio couldn't see anything, it was pitch black.

"Where are you?" his voice sounded like a child's, and it was only in the dark, without Lovino that he realized how afraid he was of losing Lovino.

"Over here." Lovino's voice sounded far off, and Antonio tried to quicken his pace, his arms out in front of him, feeling around in the darkness. Antonio's shoe slipped on something wet, glazed over with ice and he fell forwards, yelling and trying to regain his balance. Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed him and hauled him upright and he almost screamed, not knowing who the hand belonged to, until there was a small click and a lighter flicked open, creating a flame that cast a magical orange-yellow glow around them both.

"You okay?" Lovino asked. Antonio nodded. Lovino sighed. "God, you can't even walk correctly. Here," Lovino offered out his hand. "I'll lead you through."

A little embarrassed, Antonio took it. Lovino deftly wove in and out of the maze of dustbins and old rubbish, Antonio stumbling along behind him, until eventually they rushed out of the alleyway and back into a small, narrow street. Antonio looked around. It was the grotty part of town, a broken neon 'OPEN' sign in the window of a small Chinese chippy, flickering between red and blue. One of the windows had been broken and covered up with canvas.

"This way," Lovino said, unfazed. They did not break hands, and Antonio thought Lovino might have squeezed his hand reassuringly for a second there, but then again, it could have just been his imagination. They walked down the street, still holding hands. Worn-out people sat on the front porches of their worn-out homes, smoking, their eyes following the two of them, but saying nothing. Lovino kicked an empty beer can aside and it rose up, carried by the wind for a moment, before clattering back down to the street.

"I live just up there, behind the Adult Video Store," Lovino said, pointing to the left. "The park's not much further."

"Right." Antonio nodded solemnly. The area made him feel melancholy and lonely, and he wondered how Lovino could stand it alone with no friends or companions. He shivered. It was very cold, even in his coat, and he glanced at Lovino and saw that a thin layer of frost had accumulated on the tip of his nose from the wet, his teeth chattering.

"Why don't we just go to your place?" he suggested. "It's really cold- I'm cold, and I'm wearing a coat, and you- you're wearing nothing! It's dangerous if you stay out here too long without a coat, you could get hypothermia!"

"I'm fine. Let's just go to the park."

"But you must be so cold, it's more logical to just go to where you live and warm up-"

"No." Lovino interjected him. "We either go to the park, or not at all."

"But you look so cold, and it would be silly for me to just come all this way and then go back- I really think we should just go to your place, maybe I could stay the night..?'

"I said no." Lovino was obstinate. He stopped walking and pulled his hand out of Antonio's. (Antonio realized later as he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling but not seeing it and seeing instead Lovino's face, that that meant that Lovino must have been aware that he was still holding hands with Antonio, and that it had been a conscious decision on Lovino's part to remain holding Antonio's hand, even after they had exited the alley.

Lovino squared his shoulders and drew himself up, trying to make himself look taller. It didn't work, partly because he was noticeably shorter than Antonio, and partly because he was also trying to conserve body heat by hunching over, his arms drawn close to his chest. However, Antonio got the message.

"Fine," he sighed, turning away and starting to walk back. "See you." He gave a little backhand goodbye wave to Lovino as he left, but did not turn around. Lovino watched him leave until he was completely out of sight, an


	2. Necessary Precaution

"Good morning, how may I help you today?" Lovino asked, not looking up from the inventory notes he was taking. Antonio leaned over the counter, palms down on the flat surface, his face a couple inches away from Lovino's.

"Hi!" he beamed. Lovino looked up and started when he saw him so close, jumping back and throwing out a hand, pushing Antonio away.

"Oh. It's you," he said in a flat tone.

"You don't seem happy to see me," Antonio remarked, not hurt by Lovino's blatant dislike for him, partly because he could tell it wasn't real. He could see it was a front Lovino maintained, and he didn't mind it. If that's what Lovino had to do to be comfortable around people, then that was what he had to do. He could also see how that could cause problems, however, around other people who might not have as adequate insight. Working in the psychology and therapy field had made it easier for Antonio to understand and notice specific quirks or motions or manners a person may do subconsciously.

"Has anyone ever been?" Lovino said dryly. Once again, he waited, and Antonio waited too, not sure what for. "Are you going to order or not?" Lovino finally blurted.

"Oh. Right. Large mocha for here, please."

"Would you like-"

"I'll have what I had yesterday, thanks." Antonio dug in his pocket for his wallet and extracted the money needed. "Here's six dollars."

He handed it to Lovino and Lovino put in in the register and drew out the necessary change, his palm out to Antonio, but Antonio took Lovino's hand and curled his fingers around the change.

"Keep it," he said, his hand lingering on Lovino's a bit longer than necessary. "I owe you from yesterday."

Lovino coolly whisked his hand back out of Antonio's and deposited the change in his pocket, glaring suspiciously at Antonio.

"Would you like your-" he started, but Antonio interrupted him, knowing what the question would be.

"I'll have it brought to me, thanks." Antonio stepped back to his table in the corner below the clock, where he had sat yesterday, waving at Lovino. Lovino ducked behind the coffee machines and for a minute or two all Antonio could see of Lovino was that one curl, bobbing away as he worked.

Finally Lovino stepped out from behind the counter and brought him his pastry and coffee. Antonio noticed he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and that although it was clear that Lovino had washed, his clothes hadn't. They had a wrinkled, 'slept-in' look to them, and as Lovino got closer, Antonio could see the bags under his eyes, sleep dust encrusted in his tear ducts.

"Rough night?" he laughed, as Lovino set down his mocha and pastry in front of him.

"Whether it was or wasn't isn't any of your business," he replied sharply. He set down the mug of hot coffee heavily, and a bit spilled over the side and onto his finger. "Shit," he hissed, drawing his hand back quickly and shaking it vigorously in an attempt to cool the burn.

"Sucking on it works better," Antonio advised him, trying not to laugh at his pain and failing miserably.

"Shut up," Lovino huffed, walking away, one hand flailing wildly as he returned behind the counter and waited for another customer. Antonio looked around, there was no one else in the shop. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was only 7:45 am. His first class was at 10, so he had plenty of time to spare. He glanced over at Lovino, who didn't seem interested in talking at all.

"There's no one else here," he told him. "We can talk, it'd be okay."

Lovino ignored him. Antonio sighed and opened up his book.

Twenty minutes later, Antonio finished his mocha. He looked up from his book, to ask for another, but saw that Lovino was slumped over the counter, snoring quietly. Antonio laughed and Lovino woke with a start, looking around frantically until his eyes rested on Antonio.

"I'll ask again- rough night?" Antonio said playfully, for the second time. Lovino made a sort of noncommittal groan, as if he was too sleepy to answer properly.

"Call me if anyone comes in," he yawned, and got up and walked into the bathroom. Antonio watched the door close behind him and then returned to his book.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Antonio started to get concerned.

Thirty minutes later, he started to worry.

Forty-five minutes after Lovino had gone into the bathroom, he finally made the decision to go check on him and see if he was alright.

He walked into the bathroom, looking for Lovino.

"Lovino?" he called, garnering no response. He leaned down to look under the stalls and saw Lovino's skinny legs splayed out, as if he had fallen or collapsed against the wall of the stall. He got down on his stomach and squeezed through the gap at the bottom of the stall, then got back to his knees once fully inside the stall.

Lovino was sleeping, leaning against the wall, his legs spread out in front of him. Antonio laughed, relieved. There wasn't much space in the tiny stall, so Antonio had to settle for sitting on Lovino's thighs, facing him.

"Lovino," he whispered, attempting to wake him up. Nothing happened. "Lovino," Antonio repeated himself, this time louder, and patted Lovino's cheek. Lovino's olive skin was soft, and smooth and Antonio found himself cupping Lovino's cheek. His skin felt like silk under Antonio's rough hand. His lips, even when asleep, formed a slight pout, and they looked full and as soft as the rest of Lovino and absolutely kissable.

Antonio's eyes darted around Lovino's face, noting how his dark brown hair parted in one place, how it framed his head, his dark, long eyelashes, the little freckle under his left earlobe, and his eyes started to wander away from Lovino's face and to his body as well. Lovino's thin slope of a neck stretched down and curved into his shoulders, creating a perfect parabola. Antonio could see Lovino's collar bones; thin and delicate like a bird's, swooping down under his shirt, and he ached to see what the rest of Lovino looked like, under his clothes, longed to feel Lovino's bare body under his…

Without realizing it, Antonio's face drew closer and closer to Lovino's, trying to see more, to feel more… the tip of his nose brushed against Lovino's, his hand still cupping Lovino's cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth across his skin, relishing it's smooth softness…

Lovino's eyes opened, and Antonio had a split second to read the emotions that flicked through the brown-green: first, surprise, at seeing another face, then shock, realization upon seeing it was Antonio, and finally anger. Lovino stood up quickly and shoved Antonio off him. Antonio stumbled, then regained his balance and looked up, only to see Lovino pull pepper spray out of his back pocket and press the nozzle, sending the spray straight into Antonio's eyes and nose.

"I'm sorry!" Antonio gasped, feeling tears stream down his cheeks as a reaction to the pepper spray. He couldn't see and his eyes stung, so he rubbed his eyes with his palms to try to ease the pain, but it only made it worse. "I was trying to wake you up!"

"Like hell!" Lovino spat.

"Why do you even keep pepper spray on you?" Antonio coughed, doubled over, his hands over his face.

"It's a necessary precaution." Lovino coolly deposited the pepper spray back into his back pocket.

"Jesus fucking Christ, mate, you-" Antonio paused and so did Lovino, listening intently as the bell on the door rang, signaling a customer had come.

"I'll come back in a couple minutes with a cold rag," Lovino said quickly. "Wait here. Don't move."

"A cold rag would be lovely, actually, thanks," Antonio said, starting to regain some sight, although his eyes still stung like hell. He heard the sound of the lock on the stall door being turned and then heard Lovino hurry out.

"What can I get for you today, ma'am?" he heard Lovino's voice say, muffled. He could almost see it in his head, Lovino at the counter, smiling falsely and wiping his hands on his apron nervously, laughing at a bad joke the woman made about parking tickets or traffic, grinding the coffee beans and serving her. For some reason the image of Lovino smiling and laughing with someone else, even if it was false, made Antonio angry.

He felt around for the stall door and found it, stumbling around the bathroom, his arms held in front of him. He ran into a counter and leaned forward, feeling a faucet. He turned it and held his face under the spigot as cold water began to run into his eyes and down the side of his face, dripping into his ears and wetting his hair. He stayed like that for a while, bent backwards like some sort of bathroom limbo dance, as the water soothed his eyes until the pain was mostly gone and his back was cramping so badly he felt like an eighty year old woman. He turned off the tap and toweled his face dry with a paper towel that felt like cardboard.

He left the bathroom and ran into Lovino, who was just returning with a cold, wet, rag.

"Sorry," he mumbled, letting Lovino step back first so that Antonio could make his way back to his table.

"You used the sink," Lovino pointed out.

"Yeah. Is there a problem?"

Lovino sighed. "Just don't drip on the floor." He put the cold rag away and then went to the woman, who was sitting at a table on the other side of the room from Antonio.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" he heard Lovino ask her, as he wiped down the table next to her.

"Oh yes, thank you very much." She gave him a warm smile and Lovino returned it. "You seem very young," the woman said, although she herself looked to be only twenty-five. "Are you a student here?"

"No, no, I'm just a lowly coffee grinder," Lovino shook his head, laughing.

"Don't say that," she giggled, placing a hand on his arm. "The coffee is excellent."

Antonio stared at the two of them, noticing how Lovino seemed to actually be enjoying her company, noticing how the light coming in from the large windows seemed to envelop and surround Lovino, how it looked as if he was glowing. He looked happy, talking to the woman, and Antonio felt another surge of unreasonable anger.  _He_  wanted to be the one Lovino was smiling at, the one who Lovino was laughing with, the one who Lovino didn't act as though he hated. The woman was kind, and very pretty, and she and Lovino were now chatting, as if they had known each other for years. It occurred to Antonio that she and Lovino would make a perfect couple, and it hurt, almost, when he thought that.

Eventually she stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tying her hair back into a ponytail and left, thanking Lovino and waving as the door closed. As soon as her back turned away, Antonio saw the look on Lovino's face slide off, as if he was removing a mask, as if his face were a board he was wiping clean, and he knew that Lovino's friendliness with the woman had merely been another act, like the one in which he hated Antonio. It made Antonio feel better, but not much. If that was the facade Lovino kept up with everyone else, why did he have a different one for Antonio? Why did he feel the need to act coldly to Antonio, and not everyone else?

Lovino swept by Antonio while he was deep in thought, still staring at the now empty table.

"Your mug is empty," Lovino pointed out as he passed. "Want a refill?"

"Huh?" Antonio awoke from his daydream and checked his watch. "No thanks, I'd better go. Have a nice day."

"Right." Lovino looked down at the mug and picked it up, taking his time, as if there was something he wanted to say. But he said nothing, and Antonio hurried out of the coffee shop.

As he left, he wondered if the expression Lovino had had on when he saw him was also melting off, like it had with the woman.


	3. Like a Cat

Antonio did not return that evening. He had homework, and besides, he felt slightly awkward after creeping on Lovino while he was sleeping. As he struggled, the face of Lovino filled his head: when he smiled at that woman. When he was sleeping, like a delicate porcelain figure. When he woke and Antonio could see himself reflected in his eyes. He couldn't concentrate. Annoyed, he closed his notebook and grabbed his coat, deciding to go for a walk to cool his head.

As he stepped out of the dorm, he felt himself relax as the cold air hit his face. A walk. This was what he needed, to clear his head of Lovino. And yet as he rounded the corner, he spotted the familiar dark brown hair half a block away, standing in line in a small Chinese take-out restaurant. He didn't want to be seen, lest Lovino think he was not only a creeper who preyed on sleeping men, but a stalker too. Yet he still was curious, wanting to see what Lovino did on his nights off, so he hid himself in the adjacent bookshop, looking through the glass showcase window, pretending to read a book.

He watched as Lovino received his order in one of those little white cartons with the plum sauce and chopsticks and fork taped onto the side, and Lovino took his food into the alleyway just by the side of the window and sat down heavily on one of the trashbags. Antonio could see him perfectly, and watched silently as Lovino ripped open the carton and began to pour fried rice, the cheapest item on the menu, into his mouth hungrily. When he had gotten most of the rice, he reached into the carton and ate the stray bits of rice still stuck to the inside of the carton, one grain at a time, then tore the cardboard in such a way that it was flat and licked it completely, getting all possible food residue off it. Then he tore the lid off the plum sauce and licked the inside of that feverishly, until it was all gone and the little plastic container was spotless. He opened the fortune cookie and devoured that whole, not cracking it in half or taking out the fortune. He did this all in under ten minutes, and when he was done, he examined the carton and the lid and the fortune cookie wrapper to make sure there was no food left. He licked it all off, again, and then leaned against the dirty alley wall. He looked hopelessly at the clean remains of his dinner, as if he was still hungry. Looking around to make sure no one could see him (although Antonio stayed where he was, watching with amazement), Lovino grabbed the napkin also and began to eat that too, tearing at the thin paper with his teeth.

Finally he leaned back against the wall, exhausted, and scanned the alley, looking for anything else he could eat. He glanced at the window, and looked at the many books hungrily, as if he was contemplating eating those too. Then he saw Antonio and their eyes met.

Lovino stumbled to his feet in an instant and shot forward, pressing himself against the glass, yelling something at Antonio, but Antonio couldn't hear him. He could tell just by looking that Lovino was angry, however, and he wondered why. Lovino's breath fogged up the glass and Antonio could no longer see him as well, and he gestured silently, trying to tell Lovino that he couldn't hear and that he was sorry for whatever he did, but Lovino didn't seem to notice, or was either too angry to care. Antonio quickly exited the bookshop and attempted to make a speedy getaway, but Lovino grabbed him from behind, pulled him into the alley, and tackled him to the ground, sitting on Antonio's stomach to stop him from moving, leaning forward and holding Antonio's wrists down also, breathing heavily.

"You speak of this to no one," Lovino threatened, his face flushed red from anger. "Got it? No one."

"Right, right- I'm sorry- I saw nothing, I promise!" Antonio apologized quickly. He didn't want to get pepper sprayed again. Lovino leaned down closer, his face just above Antonio's, staring Antonio down. Finally he seemed satisfied and leaned back up, swinging his leg back over and standing up. Antonio got to his feet also, brushing off his jeans.

"I wasn't creeping on you," he said, although to say that now was pointless. "I was actually just taking a walk and happened to see you- sorry bout that." Lovino raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Antonio wasn't sure what to do now; should he just leave or was there something else he was supposed to do, some other social rule that people abided by whenever they saw a friend eat a napkin, so he stood there also and said nothing, hoping Lovino would leave first so he wouldn't have to be the one to awkwardly step out of the alley. Yet Lovino was not relenting, staring fiercely at the night sky and determinedly not looking at Antonio. Finally Antonio gave up and slid out of the alley.

Antonio walked into the coffee shop the next morning, a little scared that Lovino might attack him as he ordered his usual mocha and pastry. Yet

Lovino acted cool and brisk, as if last night had never happened, as if Antonio was just another customer.

"Sorry," he whispered as he handed over the money, but Lovino ignored him. Instead of having his drink and pastry brought to him, he waited at the counter, hoping to speak to Lovino, but to no avail. "Sorry about accidentally seeing you last night," Antonio said again.

"Forget about it." Lovino handed Antonio his mocha and got out the pastry and put it on a plate. "Have a nice day," he said vaguely.

"Thanks." Antonio turned his coffee mug around and around in his hands. "I was wondering if…" he started to say, a little unsure, but then was cut off as another customer walked into the coffee shop and Lovino greeted them.

"Good morning sir, how may I help you today?" Lovino asked, with not so much as a glance to Antonio. Antonio sighed and sat down, defeated, as Lovino served the next customer. Finally the customer left, after getting six coffees for his coworkers, and Antonio opened his mouth, about to speak, but then Lovino disappeared into the backroom for a while and then came back out, closing a notebook. He must have been taking inventory, Antonio realized, as Lovino then stored the notebook neatly in a drawer.

"Honestly, I wasn't stalking you or anything last night," Antonio said. "I just-"

Lovino held up a hand to cut him off. "It's fine," he said wearily. "Just forget about it."

Antonio brightened. "Great! Thank you. So we're good, then?"

Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We're good," he assured Antonio, but he seemed distracted.

"Is something the matter?" Antonio asked.

"No," Lovino said. He seemed sincere, and Antonio wondered what exactly it was that was making Lovino act so melancholy.

"Anything on your mind?"

"No," Lovino said, in a slightly more irritated tone. "Just drink your fucking coffee and go to your fucking bourgeois University like the rich brat you are."

"Ah... Problems with the University? With your brother?"

"None of your fucking business, cunt-face."

"Hey, hey," Antonio protested, but he was laughing. "I'm just trying to help."

"Too bad."

"No, but really- I'm learning to be a therapist, I could help." Antonio couldn't help prying, he was just Lovino sighed.

"I just got off the phone with my grandfather."

"And?"

"And the rest is none of your business," Lovino said coolly.

"That's pretty harsh." Antonio sipped his coffee, not really knowing what to say. "Are you doing anything this weekend?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Apart from school? No. Someone else comes in on the weekends, so I have them off. I don't start class until two, though. Why?"

"I was thinking we could do something. It's Friday today, do you get off early?"

"Yeah, at seven." Lovino looked at Antonio doubtfully.

"It's warmer today, maybe we could go to the park you told me about after work?" Antonio suggested with a lopsided smile. "And you also mentioned you needed someone to show you around town. I'd be glad to."

"I- I don't know." Lovino picked up the broom again and began to sweep.

"Go on," Antonio urged. "It'll be fun!"

"If it's with you? On the contrary." Lovino raised an eyebrow and turned away.

"You could come back to my dorm and I can show you Gato!"

"Gato?"

"He's my pet turtle, he's sooo cute! You'll love him!"

"You named your turtle Gato?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Doesn't gato mean 'cat?'" Lovino pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but he makes this weird little sound when he's happy, that sounds sort of like a cat, I guess."

"Really. A cat."

"Yeah," Antonio insisted. "It sounds like this- mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnn." Lovino stared at him disdainfully and Antonio tried it again, sticking out his neck and moving his jaw backwards to imitate a turtle. He folded his fists into his armpits and stuck out his elbows to mimic fins and waved them about. "Mrrrrrrrrrrrnn. Mrrrrrrrrrrnnnn." He did it again, for emphasis.

"And- And he walks really slow! Like if I lay down, he likes to walk up my body and sometimes it can take him almost an hour to get just from my ankle to my neck. It's a weird feeling, at first, feeling something else walk on you, but after a while it becomes really relaxing and calming. You know?"

"Not really."

"Oh." Antonio deflated. "Well, you should definitely come over to my dorm, then, and try it out!"

"No thanks."

"You know those Galapagos tortoises?" Antonio asked, undeterred. "The giant ones? They're said to be about 4mpd!"

"Mpd?"

"Miles per day."

"Miles per day?" Lovino repeated incredulously. "Four miles? Thats it?"

"I know, right? And those tortoises are so big, they can weigh up to 600 pounds! And Charles Darwin- do you know Darwin?"

"I know of him, yes."

"Yeah, well Darwin, when he was in Galapagos, a long time ago, like the… I dunno, 1500s or something-"

"1800s," interrupted Lovino. "It was in the 1800s. Victorian England."

"Right," Antonio scratched his neck, a little embarrassed at his blunder. "Well, anyway, at that time, the tortoises were so tame he could ride on them! Like, sit on the back of the tortoise and ride it like a horse!"

"I can't imagine it was a most effective means of transportation if they only traveled 4 miles per day," Lovino said dryly.

"But still- riding on the back of a giant tortoise! How cool would that be?!"

"I guess it would be kinda cool," Lovino admitted reluctantly.

"'Kinda cool?' It'd be hella cool!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just let me get back to work." Lovino dismissed him, returning to his sweeping.

"Yeah, I should probably leave if I want to get to class early. See you tonight, then?" Antonio asked, packing up his things.

"I never said yes, you know."

"I'll come back before closing time. You'll have the whole day to decide. See you later!"

"Bye," Lovino said. As Antonio left the shop, he saw the woman from yesterday enter and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He quickly turned his head and looked down at his feet, shuffling away, shoulders hunched. He didn't want to see Lovino smile at that woman, even if it was false. But what he didn't see, as he turned away, as the woman walked in, was that Lovino's eyes were on him until he was out of sight, staring at him almost longingly.


	4. Big D

That evening, when Antonio returned to the coffee shop, he saw that it was closed and locked up and everything, and standing in front of it was Lovino, rubbing his hands together and stamping his feet, little clouds of breath emanating from his lips.

"Were you.. waiting for me?" Antonio asked, surprised, but also quite pleased.

"No! I was just… standing. Nothing to do with you!"

Antonio grinned. "You were totally waiting for me. And you even closed the shop early." He nodded towards the dark interior of the shop behind Lovino.

"There was no one there," Lovino argued. "Why shouldn't I close it?"

Antonio laughed. "Come on," he said. "Let's go." He took Lovino's hand and started to walk. Lovino tried to tug his hand away, but Antonio held fast.

"Your hands are freezing," he realized.

"Maybe they wouldn't have been if you hadn't kept me waiting so long!" Lovino snapped.

"So you admit you  _were_ waiting for me?"

"I- I didn't say that!" Lovino protested.

"Yeah, you just did."

"You heard me wrong."

"Fine, fine, whatever. But your hands are like ice- here, let me warm them up." Antonio took Lovino's hand and lifted it to his lips,

blowing on Lovino's fingers. "That better?"

"D-Don't do that!" Lovino cried, wrenching his hand out of Antonio's and thrust it into his pocket.

"Do what?"

"Th-I-You-" Lovino stammered, and then stopped, shaking his hand. "Forget about it. Never mind."

"Alright," Antonio said, a little confused, but he decided to just go with it. "It's this way, right? To the park?" He pointed to the alley that he and Lovino had gone through a couple days earlier.

"Yeah. Don't slip this time." Lovino swiftly passed Antonio and swept into the alley. Antonio followed and within seconds lost sight of Lovino and all that was around him. He walked slowly, daintily, trying to feel the ground with the tip of his shoe before he placed his whole weight on it, so that he wouldn't slip on ice as he had the other day.

Finally they made it through and Antonio was relieved to see light again. They walked side by side, in silence, and just as they passed the small Chinese chippy they heard a woman's scream. Antonio froze, panicked.

"Stay here," he heard Lovino command him, but he couldn't process the words. Lovino ran off and he felt a hot, wet feeling inside his stomach, not knowing what to do, mouthing the words Lovino had said and thinking them, one by one. By the time he realized what Lovino had said, Lovino had already darted back, supporting a teenage girl of about seventeen. Antonio stared, frozen, not knowing what to do.

"Take her in there," he heard Lovino say, pointing to the Chinese place, the words rushing and tripping over each other. Lovino looked over his shoulder and Antonio looked too; he could see a gang of white boys running out of the alley, shouting at Lovino. Lovino turned back to him and Antonio focused on him, his eyes, his lips, the curve of his face, and he felt somewhat calmed. "Call the police," Lovino said. He thrust the girl into Antonio's arms.

"What about you?" Antonio's words felt sluggish, lazy, sloshing around in his mouth. He nodded at the advancing horde.

Lovino grinned and turned away, patting his back pocket, and Antonio remembered the pepper spray. He nodded curtly and ran off.

* * *

Antonio placed the girl gingerly on one of the tables in the Chinese restaurant.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I- I'll be fine." she said shakily.

"I'm going to call the police now. Did they hurt you? Do you need an ambulance?"

She shook her head, then leaned over the edge of the table and threw up. Antonio held her hair back for her as he got his phone out of his pocket. He found a wadded tissue in the depths of his pocket and got it out for her to wipe her mouth with.

"I- I knew him," she said, a little unsteadily, after she was finished. "He sits behind me in English class- always seemed nice, I.." she shivered and hugged herself. Antonio finished dialing the police and told them the address and what had happened.

"Can you watch over her? Make sure no one comes in?" he asked the stunned person behind the counter. They nodded. A man stepped out from behind him, a wok hefted over his shoulder, his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"I'll take care of her," the man said, stepping into a fighting stance. Antonio nodded his thanks and ran out the door.

Lovino and the gang were no where in sight. As Antonio stepped forward, looking around frantically, he heard something crunch under his shoe. He lifted his foot and looked down.

Below him was Lovino's can of pepper spray, dented and crushed, lying on the asphalt.

* * *

"Lovino!" Antonio yelled. He ran around for a while, looking desperately. He heard laughter coming from a nearby alleyway and he crept towards it. He peeked around the corner of the alley, craning his neck, and saw Lovino, on his knees, surrounded by the gang. One of them was holding Lovino's arms behind his back, above his head, another stood directly in front of Lovino.

"Take his shirt off," the boy standing in front of Lovino commanded. One of the other ones watching bent down and pulled the hem of Lovino's shirt up, but couldn't take it off entirely without letting go of Lovino's arms, so he bunched it up over Lovino's neck.

"If you hold his hair back he looks kind of like a girl," another commented, and the one in front of him grabbed a hunk of Lovino's bangs and twisted Lovino's face up. Lovino wasn't struggling or protesting, in fact, no emotion was visible in his face. It was completely blank.

"Damn, you're right," the one in front of him muttered. "Shit, this is getting me hard." He released Lovino's hair and Lovino's head fell forward. With a jolt, Antonio saw that the boy in front of Lovino had let go of him so that he could unzip his own pants. He took out his cock and shook it in front of Lovino.

"Suck it," he said. The others chortled. "Go on, suck it! Suck my dick, you fucking fag!" the boy yelled. Lovino lifted his head slowly, his face still blank. Antonio opened his mouth to yell and got ready to charge, to fight, but Lovino caught his eye and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of the head. Antonio didn't want to just stand there, but Lovino obviously had something up his sleeve.

He decided to stand by and wait, in case something went wrong.

The boy in front of Lovino was still yelling obscenities at him, the others joining in too. Lovino bent forward and kissed the tip of the boy's cock lightly and the others racked in laughter, holding their stomachs.

"Yeah, that's right," the boy sneered. "You like that, don't you, you little cunt." Lovino said nothing and opened his mouth wide and leaned further, his mouth around the shaft. And then he bit down. Hard.

The boy squealed in pain as Lovino ground his teeth into him and clawed at Lovino's face, trying to push him away, but Lovino held tight and the boy's efforts to move Lovino only made his teeth scrape down his length and cause more pain.

"Someone stop him!" he shrieked, as his other gang members watched, stunned. Antonio bit back a laugh. Finally one of the gang members successfully pulled Lovino off of the boy. Lovino spit out blood and what Antonio could see of the boy's cock was bloody and mutilated. He clutched his crotch and cried out in pain. Lovino laughed and started to stand up, but then one of the other gang members grabbed him and forced him face-down to the ground, one foot on his back, one hand twisting Lovino's arms behind his back.

"No one does that to Big D," he growled.

"Not so Big D anymore," Lovino laughed, but his laugh turned into a groan of pain as the gang member twisted his arms further.

Another placed his boot on Lovino's head and ground it into the concrete and Lovino cried out in pain, his voice muffled.

"I say we teach him a lesson," the one holding his arms proclaimed. The others nodded in approval and one got up and got behind Lovino, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. Lovino made a frantic noise and he kicked out with his legs, struggling against the grip on his arms, but the person behind him just sat down on his legs, stopping their movement. He started unbuckling his own belt, and it was only then that Antonio realized what was happening, that they were going to rape Lovino and he had to stop them… but he couldn't, he couldn't- he had a deathly fear of fighting, of hurting another human being. Violence made him feel sick, and yet there was nothing else he could do, it would take a couple more minutes at the least for the police to get there… he felt like he was going to throw up, felt dizzy and he had to lean against the wall and take deep breaths. But then he realized how Lovino must be feeling, how much more scary this must be for him, and the thought of Lovino hurt and afraid gave Antonio the strength he needed.

Lovino's screams became more fervent, shriller, more desperate and Antonio heard one of them say, "Me next," before he charged into the alleyway.

Antonio grabbed the shoulders of the boy, now attempting to spread Lovino's legs, which were still kicking as furiously as they could, and pulled him off of Lovino, slamming his head into the wall once, twice, three times, then let go and watched him fall to the ground, a spot of blood on the wall. The one holding Lovino's arms dropped them and backed away, but Antonio got to him first, landing a hook kick on the back of his knees, causing him to tumble to the ground. Antonio shoved the one standing on Lovino's head off of him and punched him square in the face. The boy aimed a punch at Antonio but he ducked and headbutted him in his stomach, grabbing the boy's shoulders and throwing him aside. Antonio watched as the others started to run and held out a hand to help Lovino up, but

Lovino got up by himself, pulling his pants back up from where they had been tugged halfway down to his knees.

"You okay?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah. Watch out."

"Huh?" Antonio looked around just in time to see the one that had held Lovino's arms coming at them with a knife. "Lovi-" he started to say, for the boy was coming right at him, but Lovino ducked and kicked the knife out of his hand, catching it as it fell. In an instant, he whirled back up and held it to his throat.

"Now," Lovino grinned evilly. "Take off your pants." The boy didn't move, frozen by fear, and Lovino bent down and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. "My," he said, gazing downwards. "Not very big, is it?" The boy whimpered. "If a bit of it went missing, you'd hardly notice," Lovino taunted. Tears started to dribble out the corners of the boy's eyes and down his cheeks, his chin shaking. In a flash, Lovino reached down and grabbed the boy's penis and in one swoop of the knife, he cut it clean off. The boy cried out in pain and reached out, but Lovino smacked his hands away.

"Don't you dare touch anyone without their permission ever again. You got that?"The boy nodded quickly.

"Good. Here's your dick back. If you're lucky, maybe they'll be able to stitch it back on." Lovino shoved the boy's severed penis into his hands and started to walk away. Astonished at what he had just saw, Antonio hurried and followed.

* * *

"Don't you think you went a  _little_ far?" Antonio asked, as they walked.

"No. He deserved it."

"Yeah, but… you cut his dick off."

"Glad to see your skills of deduction are up to speed."

Antonio didn't know how to answer that. "Where actually are we going?" he asked, a little scared of Lovino.

"The park. Wasn't that where you wanted to go?"

"Yeah, but it's almost ten.. and are you sure you're okay? I don't think it's wise to stay out much longer, they or another gang might come back. Shouldn't we just go to your pl-"

"No. We're not going to my place. If you don't want to come to the park with me, fine. I'll just sit there by myself." Lovino said stubbornly.

"Don't be outside at this time of night, alone! Look at what almost happened- if you really don't want to go to your place, then come to my dorm!" Antonio protested. He laid a hand on Lovino's shoulder and was amazed to see that he was shaking, trembling. "Look, you're still shaking! I don't care what you say, I'm taking you back to my place."

Lovino smacked his hand away. "I don't need your help," he said angrily, but he was still trembling visibly, and it was warm enough that Antonio could tell it wasn't from the cold.

Antonio softened. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling Lovino into his arms. "It must have been so scary for you."

"I said I'm  _fine!_ Let me go!" Lovino struggled furiously and Antonio released Lovino, stepping back reluctantly.

"Why don't we go back to my dorm?" he asked one more time. Lovino didn't answer. "C'mon," Antonio said again, offering his hand.

"Let's go." He saw Lovino lift his hand, hesitating, hovering over Antonio's outstretched one. Then he wavered and stuck his hand in his pocket, looking away.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Let's go."


	5. Gato

Lovino stepped into Antonio's dorm room gratefully and sank to the floor, leaning against the bed.

"You okay?" Antonio crouched down beside him. Lovino nodded.

"Just a little bit dizzy," he said. Antonio grabbed a bottle of water from his desk and twisted the cap off, handing it to Lovino. He gulped it down.

"Thanks." He wiped his mouth and Antonio could see now in the light the extent of Lovino's injuries. There were scratches on one side of his face, from where his face had been ground into the cement, and Antonio could see little bits of grit still sticking to his skin, in his cuts. His cheekbone was bruised, but apart from that it wasn't too bad. Antonio reached over and stroked Lovino's wounded cheek, but Lovino flinched at his touch and Antonio pulled back quickly.

"Sorry, he muttered. Lovino looked down at his feet and pulled his knees to his chest but said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Sorry about what happened tonight," Antonio said quietly. Lovino didn't speak. Antonio didn't know what to do, but the silence was making him feel more and more awkward by the minute.

"You wanna see Gato?" he asked finally, getting to his feet. Lovino looked up and Antonio walked over to his pet turtle's cage on his desk and opened it, carefully reaching a hand in and picking up Gato. He placed the small turtle on the floor in front of Lovino and sat back down beside him.

"Pretty cute, huh?" he asked, trying to keep his face and conversation light and happy, although he still had an awful churning feeling left over from that night's previous incident. He was happy that he had saved Lovino, and that Lovino had retaliated, yet the thought that Lovino had almost been raped scared him so much he couldn't breathe, like there was an anvil on his chest. He had always been a 'good kid,' never staying out too late or getting in dangerous situations, and while he knew that 'that' part of town existed, he had never been there or even seen it, and so it remained to him as almost a fantasy land. He found it hard to believe that there were people in that very town who didn't know where their next meal was coming from, who didn't have anywhere to live, who had to resort to drugs and prostitution and alcohol as their only savior. And tonight, that fantasy world which had never really existed to him had now become shockingly real.

Even when Lovino had cut that boy's penis off, his hands had been shaking. He had seemed so in control, reassured of his own power at the time, but when Antonio thought back about it, it seemed Lovino must have been more scared than the boy. Antonio's own fear seemed so small and insignificant compared to Lovino's, yet even as he told himself this, trying to snap himself out of it, he couldn't stop feeling as though the walls were closing in on him.

"Hey." Lovino poked Antonio's cheek and he awoke from his thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Antonio nodded unsteadily. He tried to think of something to do to take his mind off of what had happened but it seemed he couldn't focus on anything but that. "Sorry for spacing out. I just can't… I don't know. I've never been in a situation like that before."

Lovino raised an eyebrow but remained silent, playing with Gato.

"I mean," Antonio continued, trying to explain how he felt but not knowing how, "How are you okay with it? How can you just… sit there and pretend it didn't happen?"

"Just because I act nonchalant doesn't mean I'm okay with it. But," Lovino took a deep breath and leaned back, picking up Gato and holding him in front of his face, "I figure I got him back even. You know? Sometimes you just gotta move on. Forget the last second and wait for the next one."

Antonio digested that sentence, letting it swill around in his brain. "I guess you're right," he said finally. Lovino put down Gato and leaned on Antonio, resting his head on Antonio's shoulder.

"Of course I am," he smiled lightly, and in that moment, Antonio thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino and pulled him closer and they sat like that for a long while- how long, neither of them could tell. Finally, Lovino whispered, "What time is it?"

Antonio looked up at the clock. "11:30," he whispered back.

"Shit." Lovino broke away and started to stand up. Antonio's arm fell limply away from Lovino's shoulders and came to rest on the ground. The space between his arm and body felt so hollow, so incomplete without Lovino there.

"What is it?"

"I should go home. I'll see you Monday." Lovino looked around, as if looking for something, then stopped. "They took my sweatshirt," he said. "Can I borrow one of yours?"

"You're going back? Alone? At this time of night?" Antonio could feel the queasy nausea that had left him as he had held Lovino build up in his stomach again.

"Yeah. There a problem?"

"It's dangerous- especially after what happened tonight- what if they come looking for you? What if they want revenge?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine," he said in a slightly exasperated tone.

"At least let me walk you back," Antonio pleaded.

"No way."

"Couldn't you just wait till morning?"

"And spend the night here with you?" Lovino scoffed.

"Yeah. Or else I won't lend you a sweatshirt."

Lovino sighed in disgust. "Fine," he said. "I'll spend the night. But I'm leaving in the morning, got it?"

"Yup! It doesn't look like my roommate's coming back tonight, you can borrow it if you want." Antonio said, pointing to the bunkbed opposite his.

"Sounds good," Lovino started to say, but the door swung open and Francis stumbled drunkenly in, his shirt half unbuttoned, and collapsed on his bed, fast asleep.

"...That's my roommate," Antonio introduced him. "His name's Francis. He's a good guy." Francis rolled over onto his back and sleepily stuck his hand down his pants, scratching his crotch. "..Really," Antonio finished, a little embarrassed for his friend. "He is."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Looks like I'm sleeping on the floor."

"No, you don't have to- we can share my bed! I don't snore, I promise!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"I can guarantee that my bed will be comfier than the floor- I even have an extra pillow somewhere! I'll go get it." Antonio swung open his closet door and dug through the small space, looking.

"Comfiness is not the issue. I'm sleeping on the floor and that's it." Lovino crossed his arms.

"Well, it's not fair if one of us has the bed and one of us is on the floor. If you're really that set on sleeping on the floor, I'll join you!"

"That's not- ugh. Fine. I'll share your bed if you really want," Lovino grumbled. He climbed up onto the bed and lay down. "So?" he asked, looking down at Antonio. "You joining me or not?"

"Aren't you going to take off your clothes?"

"What?" Lovino screeched, color flooding into his face. "Of course not! I was under the impression that we were going to sleep next to each other on the same bed, not sleep with each other!"

"I don't mean like that," Antonio attempted to placate Lovino. "I just thought it would be uncomfortable to sleep in your clothes. You can borrow some of mine if you want."

Lovino paused, as if thinking it over. "Fine," he finally gave in. "Give me your clothes." He hopped off the bed and Antonio fumbled around in his closet, looking for a clean pair of clothes. Finally he found some and thrust them at Lovino. Lovino haughtily nodded thanks, and then briskly stepped past Antonio and into the closet, closing the door behind him. Antonio knocked on the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"Changing."

"In the closet?"

"What does it look like?!" he could hear Lovino's irritated shout from behind the door. Thankfully the wood muffled most of the sound and Francis did not wake.

"But.. why?" Antonio waited for an answer, but nothing came. He pressed his ear to the door, in case he just couldn't hear, but the door slammed open, whacking him in the face.

Lovino stepped out, dressed in Antonio's clothes, which were too big for him. He had to hold the pants up around his waist to prevent them from falling down.

Antonio laughed awkwardly. "Why don't you just take off your pants?" he suggested, trying to cover his mouth with his hand, in case he accidentally offended Lovino.

"Like hell!" Lovino spat, furiously waddling past Antonio, practically drowning in the fabric.

"I'm sorry," Antonio giggled, "I guess I forgot how little you are. But seriously, you should take off your pants. The shirt will probably cover everything anyway, it's big even on me."

"No way." Lovino continued waddling, looking almost like a member of some gang whose pants were so ridiculously low they could barely walk.

"Watch out for Gato," Antonio started to say, just as Lovino tripped over the small turtle that was still roaming around on the floor of the dorm. Antonio reached down and snatched him up just in time so that he wasn't crushed, but Lovino tumbled to the ground and fell face down, his butt perched comically in the air. Antonio carefully put Gato back in his cage and then hurried over to help Lovino up, but he had already gotten to his feet and stepped out of the jeans. Antonio bit back a laugh and started to take his shirt off, but was interrupted by Lovino shrieking,

"W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!"

Antonio looked up. "I'm changing," he said.

Lovino turned his face away, but Antonio saw that his ears were red. "Go change in the closet," he commanded, facing the wall.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

"Fine, fine, whatever," Antonio waved Lovino's words away and walked into the closet, coming back out a minute later.

"Hey Lovino?" he called, closing the closet door behind him, "Is it okay if I sleep with my shirt off? I have this stupid fear of getting strangled in my sleep and whenever I feel something around my neck I freak out."

"Well, you'll just have to-" Lovino turned around and then stopped, the color in his face rising. "..Not wear a shirt then. That's fine. That's- totally fine. Yes. Very. Excellent," he stuttered, until finally he managed to tear his eyes away. "Get into bed," he mumbled.

"Okay." A bit confused, Antonio climbed onto the bed and lay down next to Lovino, pulling the blankets up. He reached up and turned off the light switch, then settled down. He felt somehow at peace, lying on his back with Lovino, who was on his side, facing away from Antonio.

Antonio glanced sideways at Lovino. He could tell Lovino wasn't asleep, but he was too tired to respond to his sluggish thoughts, and he fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Antonio woke in the middle of the night from a dream. He felt something stir beside him and started, until he saw that it was just Lovino. He must have rolled over in the night, for he was now facing Antonio, so close Antonio could feel Lovino's breath on his skin. He could feel Lovino's hand pressed to his chest, and Antonio, not really knowing why, put his arm around Lovino. He felt Lovino sort of nuzzle up against him, and all that registered in Antonio's mind was how cute Lovino was when he was sleeping, before he, too, fell asleep.


	6. Pizza and Oatmeal

When Antonio woke up again in the morning, Lovino wasn't there. There was a warm dent on his bed, and the blankets had been carefully tucked back over Antonio, but the space under Antonio's arm was empty. He sighed and sat up. Something fell from his chest to his legs. He looked down. A piece of paper, torn out of his notebook that he had left open lay on his right thigh. Scrawled across it, in messy handwriting, was a simple note: 'Thanks.'

Antonio stared at it for a moment, then hauled himself out of bed and got dressed, stuffing the note into his pocket. He checked the time: 9:27 am. He usually went to help out at the soup kitchen at 11 on Saturday mornings, but he figured he could go early this time, there was nothing else for him to do. He glanced over at Francis, who was still asleep, and grabbed his coat, threw it over his shoulders, and went out the door.

* * *

He went into the soup kitchen through the back entrance that the volunteers used, and hung up his coat next to all the others. As he made his way to the kitchen, he greeted people that he knew. The soup kitchen was run by his church, and though he wasn't very religious at all, he felt that coming and helping the homeless and hungry was just as good as kneeling and praying to a deity that he didn't really believe in anyway.

He pulled on his rubber gloves and apron and mask and got to his station, where he doled out food bubbling in large pots to hungry people. He looked up as he served a balding old man, to see how many people were there, and then he saw a face he recognized.

Lovino was standing in the middle of the line, his head down, chewing his lower lip, hands in his pockets. Taken by surprise, he gawked at the small figure amongst so many others.

The old man he was serving coughed and Antonio jerked back to attention and finished serving him. But as soon as the man left, he lifted his head once again to stare at Lovino.

Lovino hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, thank god. Antonio was a little afraid of what would happen if he did.

"Hey, you gonna serve me or what?" the person in front of him snapped.

"Oh- right. Sorry," he said quickly, and grabbed his ladle and served the person. He glanced quickly over at Lovino, who apparently still hadn't seen him. But then Lovino scratched the back of his head, and yawned big and wide, and as his head tilted upwards, his eyes caught on Antonio's. He stopped and stared, as if dumbstruck, and then slowly the color rose in his face, until it was an angry red. He charged over to Antonio and yelled over the counter,

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"H-Helping out," Antonio stammered. "I help out here on Saturday and Sunday mornings."

The woman serving next to Antonio looked over and raised an eyebrow.

"Get back in line, pretty boy," she laughed. "You can wait your turn like everybody else."

_Pretty boy?_

"What are  _you_ doing here?" Antonio finally got the courage to ask. The color in Lovino's face deepened and he looked taken aback.

"I- I'm helping out! Like you!"

"Don't joke around now," the woman next to Lovino said. "You go get back in line and wait like you do every Saturday and Sunday." She shook her head. "Honestly," she snapped her gum, "What's gotten into you?"

Lovino looked from Antonio to the woman and back again. Finally he slunk back into line and resumed looking at the floor. Antonio couldn't see his face, but the tips of his ears were bright red.

When it was Antonio's turn to serve Lovino, he looked as if he was about to either throw up or die from embarrassment.

"I- I normally help out here," Lovino blurted, not looking at Antonio fiercely. "Really, I do. They just… mixed it up or something."

"Uh-huh." Antonio slopped oatmeal into the plastic bowl.

"Keep the line moving," the woman next to Antonio said, waving for Lovino to leave. After one final, desperate glance at Antonio, he quickly hurried away. As Antonio served the next person, he saw Lovino sit down, dejected, out of the corner of his eye. Finally someone else came to take his place, and he went over to Lovino and sat down next to him.

"Hey," he greeted Lovino, who was solemnly picking up oatmeal in the spoon, looking at it, then dropping it with a plop back into the bowl.

"Hey," Lovino muttered.

"You should probably eat that, it'll get cold," Antonio pointed out. Lovino didn't answer and Antonio scooted closer to him on his stool, placing a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Lovino growled, shrugging Antonio off.

"Then why don't you eat?" Lovino still didn't answer, so Antonio took his spoon from him and scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and held it to Lovino's lips. "Here comes the oatmeal train," he teased. "Choo choo." He poked Lovino's lips with the heaping spoon. He saw Lovino's lips curl into a snarl and in an instant Lovino had picked up the bowl of oatmeal and thrown it into Antonio's face.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" he screamed, at the top of his lungs. The room fell quiet.

Antonio could feel the oatmeal dripping down his face and neck and into his shirt, into his open mouth. Using the back of his hand, he wiped it away from his eyes and nose, but he could still feel the sticky wetness of it on his skin. Globs of oatmeal fell from his face and neck and chin and onto the floor, and Lovino watched it fall, and then in a second, Antonio saw panic register in Lovino's eyes as he dove to the floor, getting down on his hands and knees. He tried to scoop up the fallen oatmeal and shoved it into his mouth hungrily and, in desperation, even started licking the dirty floor.

Still stunned, Antonio just managed to bend down and pull Lovino up by the back of his shirt.

"Here," he said. "I'll take you out to lunch."

* * *

Lovino trudged along behind Antonio angrily, his head down and his head in his pockets. He hadn't yet apologized, but then again, Antonio hadn't really expected him to. He cleaned up in a public bathroom, although his shirt was still wet and little oat flakes were stuck to his skin and clothes.

"Is pizza alright with you?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah," Lovino mumbled. Antonio could tell he was embarrassed, both to be seen waiting in line for free food and for having reacted rashly. He wasn't mad with Lovino, although he figured he probably should be. But he couldn't find it in him to be mad, he just felt pity for Lovino and embarrassment also, for having seen Lovino somewhere he didn't want to be seen. Antonio opened the door for Lovino and he nodded thanks as he walked in. They shared a pizza between the two of them in silence. Everytime Antonio saw Lovino's eyes on him, he tried to give him a reassuring smile, to say that it was alright, that he wasn't mad, but Lovino would always just look down and continue eating, slowly, neatly, even though he must have been starving.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Antonio said, not really sure why he was apologizing. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. Lovino watched him, blank-faced.

"How's your face?" Antonio tried to change the subject. "You know, from last night."

Lovino reached a hand up and touched his cheek dazedly.

"Um. Okay, I guess. I think. I don't know."

"Here, let me see." Antonio leaned over the table, accidentally knocking over a glass of water with his elbow. It splashed all over Lovino, wetting his shirt to a dark charcoal color.

Antonio laughed. "See, now we're even," he chuckled. Lovino glared at him and Antonio could see his old spirit was back, that he was over his previous embarrassment. "But really," Antonio said, "Let me see your face to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Lovino protested, tipping his chair back away from Antonio, but Antonio just leaned further onto the table, now practically laying on it as Lovino continued to tip his chair backwards. The cashier looked at them oddly but said nothing. Grinning, Antonio stretched his arms and fingers to their extent, trying to get to Lovino, but Lovino leaned yet further back, too far back, and the chair legs folded beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Antonio peeled himself from the table in a hurry and went over to help Lovino up, but as soon as Lovino saw him, he started laughing helplessly.

"What?" Antonio asked, confused. "What is it?"

Still laughing, Lovino pointed to Antonio's shirt. Antonio looked down and saw that a slice of the pizza was stuck to his shirt, a little brown triangle on his chest. He started to laugh too, feeling them rise up in his body like he had swallowed bubbles.

"Come on," he said,still giggling a bit, holding out a hand for Lovino, "Why don't we go back to my place for a bit?"

* * *

"Here, borrow one of my shirts. I need to wash mine too, anyway." Antonio thrust a t-shirt at Lovino before taking his own off. The wet cloth stuck to his skin as he pulled it off, and there were still some stray oat flakes on his chest and stomach. Lovino, all of a sudden, found the shirt he was holding very interesting.

"Why don't you take yours off, too?" Antonio nodded toward Lovino.

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Lovino said with a hasty laugh.

"But you'll get cold!"

"I'm okay. I don't get cold."

"But you have goosebumps!" Antonio pointed out, looking at Lovino's thin arms. "See?" He walked over and grazed a finger up Lovino's forearm. Lovino shivered, looked away, and pulled his arm out of Antonio's reach quickly.

"I- I'm part chicken," he said.

Antonio laughed. "Pardon?"

"My.. uh, my great-great-great grandfather.. he, like.. uh.. fucked a chicken. And now all his descendents have chicken skin. It's just natural," Lovino said, punctuating his words with unease.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Hey," Antonio said, changing the subject as he grabbed another shirt and put it on, "What did you think of the pizza? It's my favorite pizza joint in town."

"It was… okay. By American standards," Lovino said huffily.

"Okay?! Just okay? It's the best pizza you can get in the state!"

"Just because you Americans," Lovino spat out the word 'Americans' as if it were a curse, "have low standards doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

"Don't act like you're better than us- Italians are terrible at driving!"

"What the fuck does that have to do with pizza?!"

"I don't know, it just seemed… the right thing to say." Antonio scratched his chin. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe?" Lovino repeated sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Maybe. Well, you know- I've never had what you call 'real' pizza…" Antonio trailed off hopefully.

"You want me to make you pizza?"

"Pweeze?" Antonio batted his eyes, sticking out his lower lip like a child begging their mother for candy.

Lovino sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Is that a yes?"

Lovino thought for a moment. "Yes. But you'll owe me."

"Your wish is my command! There's a communal kitchen downstairs, and Francis has a bunch of cooking stuff." Antonio hurried over to Francis's closet and grabbed as much things as he could carry, opening the door with his foot. He tried to hold it open for Lovino with his foot, his one leg shaking, but he fell off balance, and, dropping his pots and pans and cooking things, grabbed onto the closest thing- a single curl sticking up in Lovino's mess of hair. Lovino gasped and sank to the ground, bringing Antonio down with him.

"Ow, sorry," Antonio apologized. "Did I hurt you?" He had fallen on top of Lovino, pinning him to the ground. Lovino moaned underneath him. Antonio felt something on his shoulders and back and then realized that it was Lovino's hands, scrabbling onto him desperately.

"L-Lovino?"

"Antoni- ah!" Lovino cried as Antonio moved his hand slightly on his curl.

"Shit, Lovi, are you okay?!"

"Mo- Move your hand," Lovino panted.

"Um. Okay," Antonio said, a little confused. He moved his hand up and down on Lovino's curl.

Lovino screamed, but not in pain- it sounded… different, somehow, as if he was screaming from extreme pleasure. It seemed oddly sexual and Antonio gulped, feeling his pants growing uncomfortably tight.

Antonio moved his hand again and he felt Lovino's whole body shudder underneath him, Lovino's back arching, unconsciously pressing himself against Antonio. Lovino's hands dug into Antonio, clinging to him desperately as if for dear life.

"No, no, don't," Antonio thought he heard Lovino moan, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what he was doing, but Lovino's body pressed up against his, Lovino's hands, Lovino's voice calling out in sweet intones made him just want more.

"Please," Lovino pleaded. Assuming he wanted more movement on his curl, Antonio moved his hand once more and Lovino cried out again, tears in his eyes.

"No- stop- Antonio, sto-" His words were cut off as an uncontrollable moan slipped through his lips.

"You want me to stop?"

"Yes!" Lovino gasped, and Antonio reluctantly slid his hand off of Lovino's curl. Lovino's whole body relaxed almost instantly, his hands sliding off of Antonio. He lay there, breathing heavily for a moment, then kicked Antonio off of him and ran out of the room.

* * *

Lovino eyed himself in the dorm bathroom mirror warily. His face was still red and his breathing was rapid, his chest rising and falling quickly. He groaned, embarrassed for letting Antonio see him like that. How could he go back in there again, after practically jizzing himself right in front of Antonio? He ran his hands through his sweaty hair, trying to calm his breathing. He splashed some cold water on his fevered face. It felt good and he stuck his head under the tap, feeling the water drip down his face and neck and into his shirt, down his back.

"Lovino?" Antonio's voice startled Lovino and in his attempts to straighten up, he hit his head on the metal faucet. He reached up and turned the tap off, feeling the water slow to a trickle and then into drops, one two three. Carefully he extricated himself from the sink basin and straightened up, pivoting on his heel to face Antonio.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You- you're all wet," Antonio said, feeling useless and tepid. But he couldn't stop himself from admiring Lovino's body- his chest, rising and falling in time to little puffs of air, his flat stomach, his nipples poking through his wet shirt that clung to his torso… god, he wanted Lovino, he wanted Lovino under him and screaming in that voice again, he wanted Lovino's hands holding onto him as they had before, he wanted Lovino so bad he was worried it would be evident to anyone, especially Lovino.

Lovino looked down at himself. "Yeah. I know," he said slowly, as if Antonio were an idiot, which was exactly how he was feeling like at the moment.

Antonio nodded, not knowing what to say.

Lovino looked as if he was waiting for Antonio to say something, but Antonio remained silent, hoping Lovino would take the initiative. Finally Lovino said,

"So… pizza?"

"Yes!" Antonio agreed enthusiastically, glad that Lovino had been able to handle the situation. "The kitchen's this way." He gathered up his cooking utensils and items and then led Lovino down the stairs, occasionally checking over his shoulder to make sure Lovino hadn't wandered off or gotten lost.

Happily Antonio set his cooking things on the table, his muscles tired. Lovino nosed through the foodstuffs Antonio had brought down with him, then opened all the cabinets and the communal fridge, searching for ingredients. He pulled out a choice few and then set to work, wiping down the dirty table before sprinkling it with flour. He made and kneaded dough in a chipped bowl, then dumped it onto the flour, pounding and shaping and spreading it with his steady hands. Lovino seemed to be calmer, more at ease when he was cooking, as if he was rolling out his worries along with the dough. Finally he seemed satisfied with the pizza base he had made and picked it up and put it on a tray in the oven. He waited fifteen minutes, chewing his nails while Antonio watched silently, awed, and then pulled it out with his bare hands and putting it down on the table again. He sprinkled some more flour over it and then opened the canned of tinned tomatoes. He sniffed it, grimacing at the old, vinegary smell, then strained them. As they were already soft, he mashed them up in a small bowl, adding a couple herbs. When he was satisfied, he put a globule of the tomato sauce on the pizza and spread it around. He grabbed the assortment of cheeses that he had found and sniffed each one carefully, finally deciding on a slightly moldy mozzarella. He cut off the moldy bits and snatched up a grater, grating the soft cheese over the tomato sauce. He chopped up some wilted basil leaves and put that on also, and then put it back in the oven.

"Wow," Antonio said finally, feeling sort of like an intruder. "That was really cool."

Lovino harrumphed and crossed his arms, leaning on the counter next to the oven, tapping his foot impatiently. Slowly a great smell began to permeate through the room and Antonio could feel himself getting hungry again, even though he had eaten just an hour or so ago.

After what seemed like forever, Lovino opened the oven, pulling his sleeves down over his hands and quickly taking out the pizza and setting the tray on the table. He took a knife from the pile of random utensils and sliced it up, using the flat blade of the knife as a spatula to place slices of pizza on paper plates.

Eagerly Antonio got a piece of the pizza and bit into it, even though it burned the roof of his mouth.

"Wow," he said for the second time, still chewing, "This is really good! Really, really good- the best pizza I've ever had! I didn't know pizza could be this good."

"It's  _okay,"_ Lovino sniffed contemptuously. "It would be a whole lot better if I had the proper ingredients."

"But it's so good!" Antonio protested, taking another slice. Lovino looked up at the clock.

"I should go," he said, getting to his feet.

Antonio looked up questioningly.

"Classes," Lovino explained.

"Right." Antonio looked down sullenly. He didn't want Lovino to leave and he felt selfish for thinking that, for making Lovino stay so long, but he couldn't help it. "See you."

"Yeah. Bye," Lovino said, but he was already out the door, his voice carrying down the hall.

That night, when Antonio lay in bed, alone, he thought of Lovino. He thought of Lovino, his face, reddened, his voice when he screaming, moaning, the way his body felt under his, his arms around him, and he touched himself, he couldn't help it. Quietly gasping, he heard himself whisper Lovino's name as he came, without meaning to. Afterward, he lay his head on his pillow, feeling guilty, dirty, so awful for thinking that way.

He wondered what would happen if his girlfriend found out.


	7. Just Friends

Antonio didn't go to the coffee shop on Monday. He felt so guilty for thinking of Lovino like…  _that,_ for not being true to his girlfriend, that he decided that he would punish himself by not going to the coffee shop at all that week, and would instead use the time to hang out with his girlfriend and remember why he was dating her, why he loved her, why she was his girlfriend.

He picked up his cellphone and dialed her number.

"Hello?" her familiar voice answered and Antonio could already remember why he loved her, her warm, buttery voice filling him from top to bottom.

"Hey, Ems," he said.

"Antonio? I thought you said you were going to be busy this week?"

"Yeah, I am, but I was missing you." True enough.

A pause. "That's so sweet," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice and started to smile, too.

"You wanna meet up tonight?" Antonio asked.

"Um… hold on, just a sec." He heard the sound of her phone being put down, and waited, knowing she was flipping through her schedule. "Yeah, that sounds good, my paper's not due till Wednesday."

"Great!" Antonio enthused. "Is 7 okay? I'll meet you outside your place."

"Sounds good, I'll see you then! But I have to go now, I have another class soon."

"That works. See you at seven!" Antonio flipped his phone shut and took a deep breath.

Yes. This was what he needed. He needed Ems, cute, sweet Emma Maes, the girl from Belgium whom he had grown up with and whom he had always loved to remind him of what he already had. No point in chasing after something- or someone- that wouldn't work out, and that he didn't (he tried to convince himself this) really want anyway. Lovino was nice, and yes, he was gorgeous, but he was a friend, a mere coffee barista. A really hot coffee barista, but one who also ate napkins, and oatmeal off the floor, and fell asleep in public bathrooms.

Emma, however, was funny, and smart, an agriculture major, and quite literally the girl next door. She was refined and sweet and understanding and accepted Antonio and his weird friends for who they were, but was also playful and fun to be around.

Antonio loved her for these things, but more, he loved her for her and who she was, and he loved her for loving him and everyone else. She didn't try to hide her feelings, she didn't have to put on a false face like Lovino, because she knew who she was and everyone else knew it, too. Antonio admired that in her. Growing up, she had always been a sort of role model for him, and still, even though they had been dating for years, he still found himself in awe that a girl like her had fallen for him.

He checked his watch. It was still just 5pm. He sighed and sat down, figuring he should at least get some work done before his date.

* * *

Lovino waited, in a full and bustling coffee shop, for Antonio, a cold mocha and stale pastry beside him.

"Hi, I'd like a.."

Lovino awoke from his spaced-out dreaming, smiled and nodded, and got to work. As the customer left and the next one in line came up, he slowly, almost regretfully, tipped the pastry and drink in the garbage.

* * *

Antonio exited Emma's car, his shirt buttons askew. She kissed him goodbye and fixed her dress, before promising to call him, and drived away. He walked up to his dorm slowly, tired, spotting the clock on the wall. The time read 11 pm. He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

When he got to his room, he just fell on top of the bed without even bothering to change first. In seconds, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Antonio woke up ten minutes after his first class was supposed to start, having forgot to set his alarm the previous night. With a jolt he bolted out of bed in the same clothes, gulping down Listerine before running out the door. As he jogged, backpack over his shoulder, to his class, his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since Lovino's pizza yesterday afternoon and he was starving. He knew he had to get something quick or else he wouldn't be able to focus all class, and he slowed down a bit, looking around for a McDonald's or Dunkin' Donuts or someplace where he could get an espresso and a cheap meal in seconds, but he couldn't see any. He paused outside the coffee shop where Lovino worked. He had decided not to go in for a whole week, and he hesitated, not wanting to go back on his pact, but his stomach growled again and he could almost feel the time slipping away as he made up his mind. Finally he just barged in, the bell on the door ringing furiously. Lovino looked up from serving a customer, and as his face became visible, his eyes fixing on Antonio, all thoughts of Emma Maes, the pretty girl who he had been dating since high school, abandoned Antonio's mind.

"Where were you yesterday?" Lovino asked in that voice of his, that melodic voice that Antonio couldn't seem to get enough of, that voice which had just yesterday cried out and screamed Antonio's name…

"M-Me?" Antonio asked, a little stunned, pointing to himself for clarification.

"Who else?" Lovino said sarcastically, and Antonio reluctantly tore his eyes away from Lovino's lips, which looked so pink and warm, and his hands, which had held onto him so desperately yesterday, and his dark brown hair, which looked so soft and  _god,_  Antonio could practically feel it balled up in his fist as he took Lovino from behind…

And then he realized that the customer had left and that him and Lovino were all alone in the coffee shop and five minutes had already passed while he had been gawking at Lovino and fuck, he had a boner. He hurried quickly to the counter, pressing his torso against it, hoping Lovino hadn't noticed.

Lovino looked at him impatiently. "Yesterday…?" he prompted.

"Oh, right. Yesterday. I was- uh- yesterday- I…" That's right. He should tell Lovino that he had a girlfriend. He didn't want to accidentally lead Lovino on… but then again, a guy like Lovino would never want him… but if he did- which he wouldn't- but Antonio had responsibilities, like being true to his girlfriend and- oh shit he had a girlfriend- they had gone on a date yesterday… had there been sex? Yes, Antonio affirmed in his memory, there had been sex. And he hadn't showered. And she had been wearing lipstick.

"Don't strain yourself," Lovino rolled his eyes.

Antonio pulled up his collar, hoping there were no suggestive red marks on his face or neck. And then he smelt it, on his hands as they passed his face- Emma's perfume. It was the one he had bought her, the fancy Dior one, that could be smelled by anyone within a foot of her.

Lovino stood across from him, tapping his fingers on the counter. He frowned and leaned forward, his face close to Antonio's.

"You got a little something there," he murmured distractedly, and Antonio could see in his peripheral vision Lovino's hand reach up and then he could feel it on his face- Lovino was so close, just a couple more inches, and perhaps Antonio might just slip on something that wasn't there and topple forward, and his lips might just happen to fall on Lovino's- it wasn't cheating, it was just an accident, and maybe if he just got over with it and kissed Lovino, the thoughts about Lovino might stop…

And then Lovino leaned backward just as Antonio fell on purpose and Antonio did not tumble onto Lovino as he had planned, but instead onto the hard plastic counter.

Lovino looked at the hand he had just pulled away from Antonio's face. "You're sweating," he stated, not caring that Antonio was now holding his nose in agony. He held up his wet finger for Antonio to see, to prove his point.

"Yeah, I ran here," Antonio groaned, cupping his nose. "I was-" he glanced at the clock, "I am late to class."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?!" Lovino yelled. Antonio stared, not sure what he had done to make Lovino angry.

"You got into a good university and you're standing here in a coffee shop, wasting your time, money, and education? Go to class!" Lovino gestured wildly, furious, and a stray arm knocked over a stack of paper cups. "Ah, fuck," he muttered, and bent over to pick them up. "Go to class!" he yelled once more, and it took all of Antonio's willpower to tear his gaze away from the seemingly heaven-sent sight in front of him and hurry out the door.

* * *

Antonio returned to the coffee shop that evening. He felt guilty about about abandoning his plans, but he  _was_ hungry and Lovino was beautiful and gorgeous and smart and funny and sexy, albeit a little cold.

But as he walked in at half past seven, the small shop was completely crowded, a long line of people waiting to get coffee. Antonio joined the back of the line, peering over the queuers' heads.

The line shortened and soon he found himself facing Lovino. "Medium mocha, two shots of espresso, for here, no pastry," he said wearily, placing a five-dollar bill on the counter. Lovino nodded curtly and snatched up the money before disappearing behind the coffee machines. Antonio went ahead and took a seat at an empty table and moments later Lovino arrived carrying a steaming cup of coffee. He took it from him without looking up, guilt racking his body when he thought of what he had done, thinking of Lovino, last night.

He stared into the depths of his coffee mournfully, seeing his face reflected in the dark surface. He picked up the cup and his face distorted and grew and stretched into something gross, something awful, as the liquid inside moved.

He felt as terrible as he looked. He had a girlfriend, and yet, earlier today, he had tried (unsuccessfully) to kiss Lovino. How disgusting he was. He lifted the cup to his lips. He didn't want to have to look at that side of him, the real side, reflected honestly in the coffee.

Lovino walked coolly past Antonio, his side brushing against Antonio's forearm. Antonio looked up instinctively, only to see Lovino nonchalantly place a napkin on the table before disappearing. Curious, Antonio picked it up and saw, scrawled across it in black ink,

"I'll close late tonight, around 10, if you're willing to wait."

And despite how bad he had been feeling just seconds before, he started to smile. He could be just friends with Lovino, right?


	8. Jenga

"So," Antonio joined Lovino, who was waiting outside the just-closed coffee shop. "What's up?"

Lovino looked confused. "The… sky?" he answered hesitantly, his eyes flicking upwards.

"What?"

"You- you asked… what's up…?" Lovino pointed at the sky warily.

Antonio laughed. "No, I meant, like- what's happening."

Lovino looked even more confused. "Israeli-Palestinian conflict?"

"No, no, I don't think you understand. What's going on?"

"Well… Russia just invaded Ukraine." Lovino gestured limply.

"Um, that's not.." Antonio held a hand to his forehead, thinking. "Haven't you learned that phrase yet?"

"I know 'how are you' and 'good day' and 'I'm fine' and I can answer basic questions about the state of affairs. Is that what you mean?"

"Do you… you have English books, right? Don't they have a 'social' chapter or something?"

"Yeah, but I skimmed that bit because I figured I wouldn't do much socializing anyway," Lovino answered.

Antonio laughed weakly. "That's a little sad." He wasn't sure what to say to this.

"Is it?" Lovino seemed a bit distant.

"But- But we're friends, right?" Antonio was a little worried that Lovino didn't regard him as such, after his recent disclosure about his lack of interest in being friends with anyone, let alone Antonio.

"Are we? I was under the impression that we were acquaintances who met barely a week ago, and yet you've made me come to your dorm, sleep in your bed, eat your bad American pizza, and just this morning you tried- unsuccessfully, might I add- to kiss me. So yeah, we might have been friends, but we're acquaintances now."

"W-Wait, I wasn't trying to- that was a mistake-" he stammered desperately, holding his hands out, almost pleadingly. Lovino narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Antonio, backing him against the door of the coffee shop.

"Don't even try to fucking lie," he spat. "I can see right through you." He drew himself to his full height, getting closer, and even though he was considerably shorter than Antonio, he was menacing, full of wrath and venom and something else in his eyes that Antonio couldn't exactly place.

Lovino stared him down for what felt like an eternity, as Antonio felt sweat trickle down the side of his face and down his back, until finally he seemed satisfied.

"So," Lovino said nonchalantly, as if nothing had just happened. He took a step back. "Shall we go for a walk?"

"Huh?" Antonio blinked, confused. "I thought we're not friends anymore."

"We're not. We're  _acquaintances,_ until you can prove to me that you will be a trustworthy  _friend_ who won't try to make out with me."

"Ah.. okay," Antonio laughed faintly, scratching the back of his head.

"And once I have deemed you worthy, you may sign my friend contract, which says that you will be my friend and nothing else."

"I don't think friendships work like that, Lovi."

"Mr. Vargas, if you please. We are acquaintances at the moment, and you'll have to upgrade to double friend status if you're going to call me Lovi."

"I…" Antonio really didn't know what to say.

"Don't you want to be my friend?"

"I- I do, I just… aren't I already your friend?"

"No, you're my acquaintance," Lovino explained impatiently, as if teaching a hard concept to a slow-learning child. "Now," he straightened himself, adjusting his too-big sweatshirt as if it were a thousand-dollar Armani suit. "Shall we walk? On the way you can redeem yourself."

"Alright," Antonio agreed unsteadily. "Have you eaten dinner yet? We can go to my dorm and I can make you some ramen."

"That- that sounds good," Lovino said quickly, trying to disguise the hunger in his voice. They set off to Antonio's dorm building.

On the way, Antonio paused, looking at a poster advertising the university's art department.

"Pretty funny how they put up ads in their own campus," he laughed, pointing. Lovino ignored him but Antonio stayed, looking closer at the poster. "Wow," he enthused. "That's really good. Who did that?"

Lovino walked back to join him, looking at the painting shown in the poster. His face grew red and his mouth contorted in anger.

"I fucking  _told_ him not to publish that one!" he yelled, reaching up and tearing down the poster, ripping it into shreds. Antonio watched him, confused.

"You know the artist?"

"Yeah, he's my idiot brother."

"He's really good- can I see some of his other stuff? Does he have an exhibit or something?" Antonio asked eagerly.

"Uh… yeah, he does," Lovino said, looking slightly befallen. "I can take you to it, it's free."

"Great! Thank you so much! Can you take me there now?"

"If you want…" Lovino seemed almost reluctant, but Antonio was too excited to notice or even care. "It's this way."

In minutes Lovino had lead Antonio to the university student art centre, where they displayed art done by good pupils. Feliciano, Lovino's brother, had his own room full of sculptures, busts, and paintings. Wide eyed, Antonio entered the room, not sure which masterpiece to look at first. Lovino trailed behind him, taking his time, walking slowly, as if dreading something, watching the ground.

"Your brother's really amazing," Antonio gushed, staring up at a painting depicting Jesus and various other Christian imageries. "Are you guys religious?"

"I- I guess you could say that."

"Can I ask you something?" Antonio said, completely ignoring Lovino's answer, even cutting him off in the middle of it. "Why do all the men have such big…" he didn't finish the sentence, not wanting to say the word in a museum, surrounded by genius works of art.

"Such big dicks?" Antonio cringed a bit as Lovino said it. "Yeah, he's kinda…" this time Lovino trailed off awkwardly.

"Gay?" Antonio suggested mildly.

Lovino bit his lip, nodding.

"Is that you?" Antonio asked, gaping at a painting. It showed a young man, shirtless, his olive skin illuminated by the setting sun peeking behind rolling hills of crops, purple grapes and golden wheat behind him. He was crouching, wearing too-big baggy jeans that sagged around his waist and bunched around his ankles, only his bare, dirt-stained toes peeking out. He was staring blankly, almost sadly, into the distance, his expression… Antonio couldn't quite place it. His eyes, captured in flecks of paint, seemed to dance and move and show emotion, and it was unlike anything Antonio had seen before. He looked back at Lovino, trying to match him with the man in the painting. Lovino drew back, surprised, his face growing slightly pink as he watched Antonio's eyes moving, flicking across his whole body and face.

Antonio looked back at the painting, then at Lovino again.

"It  _is_ you!" he cried, excited. Lovino smiled weakly, holding his arms out limply as if to say, 'here I am.'

"Is that Italy behind you?" Antonio asked. Lovino nodded. Antonio looked back at the painting as he prepared his next query. "Did you guys own a farm or something?"

"No, we just worked at one. We picked grapes."

"For wine?" Lovino nodded. "Hey," Antonio started, getting an idea, "draw something for me."

"Huh?"

"Your brother's a good artist, I bet you are too!"

"No, no, not at all," Lovino began to say, but Antonio thrust a scrap of paper from his pocket and a pencil at Lovino. Reluctantly, Lovino took them, and started to scribble, using the wall as support. Antonio watched him as he worked, his brow furrowed, his tongue stuck out as he focused on his drawing. Finally he ceased to draw and stepped back, holding out the paper for Antonio. Antonio took it eagerly and looked down at it, grinning in expectation.

His grin faltered. It looked no better than a third-grader's scribbles, the lines jerky and disconnected, the shape boxy.

"It's… nice.." Antonio tried to smile at Lovino, but it came out as a grimace.

"I told you I was no good," Lovino mumbled, looking at his feet.

"No, no," Antonio insisted. "It's… nice." He couldn't think of a better thing to say and so he repeated his former words. He stuffed the paper in his pocket, not wanting to throw it away in front of Lovino. He didn't know what to do, so he just walked on to the next painting. It depicted a young man passed out over a table, an empty bottle of cheap wine in one hand. A glass that had once been full of wine had tipped over in the man's other hand, spreading wine across the table and dripping onto the floor.

Antonio laughed. "Is that you, too?" he pointed towards the sleeping man in the picture.

"Maybe," Lovino evaded the question.

"Hey, no judging here. It's ok if it is," Antonio said, laughing slightly, but Lovino just shrugged. Antonio looked back up at the painting, noticing for the first time that the man in the picture's face was wet, not with wine but with tears, his eyes red and puffy. He opened his mouth to ask Lovino something, but saw that Lovino had moved on to the next painting nonchalantly. Hastily he eased over to Lovino, deciding to ask him later.

"Your brother paints you a lot," Antonio commented.

"Suppose so."

"He must really look up to you," Antonio commented.

Lovino breathed a single, forced laugh. "I doubt it."

"No, really," Antonio pressed. "He sounds interesting. I'd like to meet him."

Lovino groaned. "You're hinting at something, aren't you?"

Antonio grinned, unashamed. "You got me."

Sighing, Lovino hunched over and thrust his hands in his pockets. "C'mon," he mumbled. "He should still be up at this time."

* * *

They arrived at a small dorm building, the one specifically set aside for the foreign exchange students. Lovino found the intercom and buzzed his brother's room number, and in a second, they could hear a high-pitched, wavering voice.

"Ludwig!" the voice cried. "Don't- not there- ah!"

"Feli!" Lovino screamed into the intercom, his face red with anger, fists trembling. "What the fuck- is that fucking German- hold on- are you-" after a couple of messy swears he gave up on English and started yelling at full volume into the intercom speaker in Italian. When he got no reply, he ran over to the doors, rattling them furiously, trying to get them opened. A student passing by heard the noise and opened the door for the two of them, and Lovino rushed in, almost knocking over the bewildered student.

"Sorry," Antonio apologized quickly, as he hurried after Lovino. Lovino plowed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, finally bursting into a long hallway and sprinting down it, stopping at a door. He pounded on the wood, the door shaking in it's hinges.

"Ludwig," the same voice yelled again, "I-It's gonna-"

Snarling, Lovino kicked down the door. A thick, burly blond man pulled a wooden block out of a pile of quivering blocks and the tower fell down.

"Aww, you beat me," Feliciano whined. "You're so good at Jenga!" He looked up. "Oh, Lovino! When did you get here?"

Lovino fell to his knees, breathing heavily. "You- fucking-" he wheezed. Laughing slightly, Antonio squatted down to Lovino, patting his back reassuringly.

"Well," the blond man said after a moment. He had a thick German accent, and for some reason it amused Antonio greatly. "I'm going to take a shower. Feliciano, do you want to join me?"

"Yes!" Feliciano started to say, but Lovino cut him off.

"No he fucking won't, you fucking potato bastard!" Lovino got up once more, standing in front of Feliciano protectively. The German stared at him, shocked.

"I thought you weren't allowed into this building anymore," he said.

Lovino flushed. "M-Minor details," he said hastily, and Antonio looked from him to the German to the small, lighter-haired man whom he took to be Feliciano, confused.

"Anyway," Lovino said quickly, turning to Feliciano and squatting down so he was at eye level with his brother once more. "Are you okay? Did he-" he glanced over his shoulder at the befuddled German, then back to his brother, "Did he touch your… your no-no carrot?"

Feliciano brightened. "Yeah, lots!" he said happily. Lovino let a sort of strangled cry and in an instant he was on the German, kicking and punching and biting, but it had no effect. The man seemed to be made of iron.

With difficulty, Antonio pulled him off the German, looking over at Feliciano.

"Nice to meet you," he gasped, as Lovino elbowed him in the chin, "I'm Antonio. Real big fan."

"Fucking bastard!" Lovino screamed, rabid.

"I'm gonna use the shower…" the German pointed to the hallway beyond the broken down door, a towel over his shoulder.

"Don't use all the hot water," Feliciano called over Lovino's shouts. "Sorry about my brother," he apologized, now talking to Antonio again.

"It's alright." Antonio winced as Lovino's heel collided with his shins.

"Grab his curl," Feliciano advised. Antonio looked at him doubtfully.

"I don't know… I shouldn't…" he hesitated, but Lovino's fist sank into his stomach and he made up his mind. Quickly he moved his hand away from where he had been holding Lovino around the stomach where he had been trying to subdue him, and grabbed onto Lovino's curl. Lovino's shriek faded into a low moan and he started to tumble, his legs weak. Antonio quickly grabbed him round the middle with one hand, his other hand still on Lovino's curl as he fell against Antonio limply.

"B-Bastard," Lovino spat, but it developed into a yelp as he started to slip and Antonio gripped both him and his curl tighter in his efforts to keep Lovino upright.

"I'm sorry," he apologized frantically, remembering how he had seen Lovino this mad only once before, and on that particular occasion he had cut a man's penis off.

Feliciano surveyed them disinterestedly. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate," he announced, and left, stepping over the broken-down door. Lovino snarled and elbowed Antonio in the stomach, producing a quiet 'oof' and left with no choice, Antonio started rubbing the curl lightly to further incapacitate Lovino.

"Let- me- go," Lovino hissed.

"Will you calm down?" Antonio whispered, his lips brushing against Lovino's ear lightly. Lovino started to nod, resulting in more friction on his curl. He cried out, losing his balance and starting to topple forward, bringing Antonio down on top of him. Quickly Antonio rolled off, releasing Lovino's curl.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was the only way to stop you." He felt a weight on his stomach and looked up, only to see Lovino sitting on his belly.

"Wha-" he started to say, but was cut off as Lovino punched him in the face.

"You fucking  _bastard!"_ he screamed.

"I said I'm sorry!" Antonio wailed, holding his arms over his head to protect himself. "There's no reason to beat up innocent people!"

"Yes there is! He fucked my  _brother!"_

"It's a perfectly natural thing to do, Lovino. Your brother's old enough to make his own decisions," Antonio tried to say, closing his eyes, wincing as Lovino beat into his arms.

"It's not natural!" Lovino yelled, his voice hoarse. Antonio felt a drop of something wet and warm on his face and opened his eyes, only to see that Lovino was crying, fat dollops of salty water spilling down his cheeks and onto Antonio.

"They're- they're-" Lovino choked, his lip trembling. "They're f-f-" He stuttered, unable to say it.

Antonio's expression hardened. "A faggot? You're going to call your own brother a faggot?"

He heard a sigh from behind him and averted his eyes for a second, to see Feliciano leaning against the wall, sipping a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"He's been like this ever since Roma kicked him out," he said. Antonio felt Lovino's body shudder on top of him.

"No," Lovino muttered, throwing one arm over his face to cover it, his eyes and nose hidden in the crook of his elbow, the other hand on Antonio's chest, fingers curling into Antonio's skin.

"K-Kicked him out?" Antonio repeated, incredulously. Feliciano said nothing, merely sipped his drink. Antonio looked back at the sobbing man on top of him, thinking about Lovino, his hesitations, his fear of the word he had tried to say, and then he realized.

"No," he said, disbelieving at first. Lovino let out a little strangled cry, tears wetting Antonio's face and neck, his fingers clawed.

 _"_ _No!"_  Lovino howled.

"He is..?" Antonio looked at Feliciano for confirmation, getting the tiniest smirk in response. He swore he saw Feliciano wink at him, but he couldn't be sure.

"No," Lovino sobbed again. "I'm not- I swear I'm not. Please.. don't-" And in that moment, as Lovino protested in vain, Antonio could feel his heart break.

"C'mere," he muttered, sitting up, forcing Lovino off, and leaning against Feliciano's bed. He pulled Lovino back onto his lap, Lovino facing sideways, the side of his head against Antonio's warm chest. Antonio wrapped one arm around Lovino's shaking shoulders, the other hand stroked his hair gently.

He heard the floorboards creak and knew Feliciano was leaving again, and he appreciated that gesture.

"It's okay," he whispered, pressing his lips to Lovino's fevered head, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into Lovino's shoulder.

"No," Lovino said thickly, his face buried in Antonio's chest.

"Do you want me to let go?" Antonio asked quietly.

"N-No," Lovino sniffed, starting to cry harder.

"Okay." Antonio kissed the top of Lovino's head lightly again, not sexually or romantically; it was the sort of gesture a doting parent might give their child. He drank in the scent of Lovino- he smelled clean, fresh, a little bit like strawberries… and there was something else, a warm, earthy scent, like damp soil after a rainfall.

"It's okay to be who you are," he said after a moment, hoping it would make Lovino feel better, but he only cried harder, hiding his face in his hands.

"But I don't- I don't want to be who I am!" Lovino cried, shaking his head, his hair flopping around under Antonio's hand, tears and snot smearing across Antonio's shirt.

"Why would you say that?" Antonio asked softly. "You're a great person. I'm very lucky to have met you."

"I'm not-" Lovino gulped, trying to stop his tears, but it only made his crying more fervent, "I don't- shouldn't-" He couldn't finish the sentence, dissolving into more tears.

Antonio really didn't know what to say to this. Even with all his preparation, his tests, his A-levels and O-levels, now that he was faced with a real situation where he had to help someone solve their problems and comfort them, he was way out of his depth. He wondered, as he held the crying young man in his arms, what all his work had really amounted to, if all his studying and quiz sheets and flash cards were for naught. In the classroom, they never talked about what to do when something like this happened; the closest they had ever come to anything of this topic in class discussion was to hand the person tissues and sit there awkwardly until they had regained their composure, but obviously that wouldn't do much good in this situation.

So instead he called upon the tactics his mother had always employed when he was a little boy, and started to sing:

_"_ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

To his surprise and relief, Lovino started to calm down bit by bit, wiping his face on his sleeve and, encouraged, Antonio sang more. By the time he had finished the song, Lovino had more or less stopped crying, little gasping sobs still erupting from his cracked lips every few seconds or so.

"How you doing?" Antonio whispered. He had a strange notion that Lovino was delicate, like blown glass, and if he spoke too loud Lovino would crack into millions of tiny pieces and Antonio would never be able to put him back together again. Lovino didn't answer.

"I'm sorry." Antonio spoke again, at a loss of what to say. He felt Lovino's whole body stiffen under him and in an instant Lovino had shoved Antonio off of him, knocking him against the wooden bed and he ran out of the room.

Antonio was too stunned to move, or even follow.

The blond German walked back into the room, a towel around his shoulders and a toothbrush sticking out the side of his mouth.

"Can you tell your friend he owes us $400 for the door?" he said tiredly, the toothbrush jiggling as he spoke.

"Y-Yeah," Antonio lied, knowing he wouldn't tell Lovino. He didn't want to place that extra stress on him; he had seen Lovino eat napkins and stand in line for free food, wearing the same ratty clothes day after day, and knew there was no way he could afford even a quarter of that cost.

"I'll tell him," he said, making up his mind to scrape together the sum from his savings or budget. It was the least he could do.

"Well," he said, forcing a smile, the events of that night weighing upon him so heavily it felt almost as if it were he who had been cast away by his own family, "I'll be off then. Good night."

* * *

Lovino wasn't at the shop the next day, instead a cheerful person of indeterminate gender with short blonde hair served Antonio. Sadly he stirred his coffee around and around sullenly, even though the sugar had long since dissolved.

It just wasn't the same without Lovino.


	9. Per Favore

"Hey." Antonio stepped into the coffee shop two mornings later, yawning. He was a little nervous after Lovino had shoved him that one night, worrying that he was mad at him, though he wasn't sure why. These worries had only been cemented by Lovino's absence from the coffee shop three days ago, and since he hadn't gone to the shop, even going as far as taking a longer route to school so that he didn't have to pass by it and think about Lovino and how he had wept in Antonio's arms just four nights ago, how small and tiny he had seemed, how sad he really must be behind that stone mask of disdain and indifference.

He received no answer to his greeting and looked up, afraid that it was a sign of Lovino's anger, but Lovino was just on the phone, gabbling in Italian. Even at the other end of the room, Antonio could hear a man's voice yelling through the end, as Lovino winced, holding the phone away from his ear. He had a death grip on the phone, his knuckles white, and Antonio had a strong suspicion the man on the other end of the line was Lovino's grandfather. A gleam of light caught his eye and he noticed that Lovino's other hand was twirling and twisting a small golden cross around his neck, wrapping and unwrapping the chain around his finger.

"Per favore," Lovino whispered into the receiver, and it was close enough to Spanish that Antonio could understand he was saying please. The line clicked off as the person who Antonio took to be Lovino's homophobic grandfather hung up on Lovino.

Lovino swore at the top of his lungs in Italian, slamming the phone down onto its holder angrily.

"You alright?" Antonio asked warily, approaching the counter.

"Do I look fucking alright?" Lovino demanded, leaning over the counter to glare at Antonio.

Antonio decided not to answer.

Lovino stared down Antonio for a minute longer, daring him to speak, before relenting and changing his posture upright once again, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He took a deep breath before turning around to unlock the cabinet containing the flavored syrups.

"Was that your grandfather?" Antonio asked.

"No, it was my fairy godmother," Lovino shot back, not turning.

"I see." Antonio laughed weakly. He watched Lovino for a moment before saying, "So, do you want to talk about the other night?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"Well, you know… the whole 'gay' thing, I guess." Antonio mumbled.

"I don't know what you mean," Lovino said coolly.

"You- you're gay, and you were crying and shit, and you broke a door…?" Antonio trailed off questioningly, wondering if he was the only one who recalled this, if it was all just a dream.

"I don't recall such a thing ever occurring."

"A-Are you just going to pretend it didn't happen?" Antonio said, realizing what Lovino was playing at.

Lovino looked over his shoulder. "Pretend what happened?

"If you just bottle it all up, it makes it harder. You should talk about it!" Antonio insisted.

"Talk about what?"

Antonio sighed, giving up. "Whatever," he said. "I can't force you to do anything."

Lovino finished his work and turned back around, placing his palms on the counter and looking down at his garbled reflection in the plastic surface.

"You gonna order or not?" Lovino barked. Antonio couldn't seem to look him in the eyes without remembering the feeling of Lovino quaking with sobs against his chest, so he instead focused on the dark circles under his eyes, his nose, his lip with the skin on it torn from Lovino chewing on it so much as a nervous habit.

"Right, sorry. Small mocha-"

"For here, two shots of espresso, and a tomato and mozzarella pastry?" Lovino finished, smiling slightly.

"You remembered!" Antonio felt something inside his stomach rise and he realized it was okay, that nothing had changed between them. Because if nothing had happened, which it would be most comfortable for both of them to pretend, he thought, then nothing could have changed, right?

"Of course I remember, you come in here almost every fucking day." Lovino's voice floated up from behind the coffee machines with which he was working.

Antonio chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose I do." He leaned over the counter, watching Lovino as he worked. His slim fingers hopped around the fancy machine, pulling and turning dials and levers. Antonio noticed that when Lovino was concentrating on something, his brow furrowed in the slightest, cutest way, his bottom lip stuck out in a minute pout.

"You're cute when you're busy," Antonio observed. He saw Lovino flush, his deft fingers suddenly clumsy, and realized he had said it aloud.

"Shut up," Lovino mumbled, his face red as he took out the boiler, preparing to pour the steaming coffee in a paper cup.

"Ooh, are you flustered?" Antonio teased, noticing Lovino's trepidation. "Did I fluster you?" He chuckled.

"You shut up right no-" Lovino swiveled on his heel angrily, forgetting about the coffee he was holding, and in an instant the top of it flew off and, surprised, he dropped it, the still bubbling, boiling liquid splashing all over his torso, neck, and upper legs…

* * *

"You really should take off your clothes," Antonio commented, looking sideways at Lovino, who was sitting beside him, sopping wet. A small puddle of coffee had gathered beneath him and on his skin, coating the raw burnt red, was a thin film of brownish stickiness.

"Fuck no," Lovino replied irritably.

"But you're all burnt- doesn't it hurt?"

"Of course it does!"

"Then take off your clothes and put cold water on it," Antonio advised.

"I'm  _not_ taking off my clothes," said Lovino indignantly. "Besides, it doesn't hurt  _that_ much."

"Really?" Antonio reached out and touched a patch of red on Lovino's forearm with the tips of his fingers. It was barely any contact, but Lovino cried out and jerked his arm away instinctively.

"Yeah. I'm going to take you to the hospital now," Antonio said. Lovino shook his head so fast he banged his head on the wall and reached an arm up to it, wincing.

"Don't," he said.

"Why not?"

"Can't afford it. And also…" Lovino stopped his sentence prematurely, looking away.

"Also…?" Antonio prompted.

"I.." Lovino bit his lip, "I may have overstayed my traveler's Visa."

Antonio groaned, holding a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you just apply for a green card or something?"

"I didn't think I'd be here for that long!" Lovino insisted. "Plus, it costs money, and right now most of it is going to my grandfather."

"W-What?" Antonio asked, caught off guard. "Why're you giving your granddad money?"

"Fuck," Lovino muttered, defeated. Impatient, Antonio coughed loudly, requesting an answer.

"Well," Lovino began, his eyes shifting away guiltily, "He's old. Really old. And sick, and it's my fault he's sick, so… I've been sending him money."

"Wait," Antonio interrupted. "How is your grandfather getting sick your fault?"

Lovino chewed his lip, unwilling to answer.

"Answer me," Antonio demanded angrily.

"I.." Lovino looked down at his hands. "Well… Roma- he said that God was angry with me, and that he'd punish us so that I would see the impact of my sins."

"Holy shit," Antonio said, starting to laugh out of sheer bewilderment. "Your granddad is crazy!"

"Yeah, well, then it actually happened! So he's not so crazy! And- and-" Lovino said desperately, grabbing at loose straws, "And he's the last person in Italy who can speak Latin fluently!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Antonio snorted.

"Well, he's not as bad as you make him out to be." Lovino crossed his arms, but when his burnt skin touched other skin, he winced in, glancing at Antonio briefly.

"Just because he can speak Latin doesn't change the fact that he's a religious nutcase," Antonio argued. "And a single person can't  _cause_ someone to be sick. It's just coincidences!"

"It's not! He got so mad at me when Feli told that he passed out, and they found out he had DVT at the emergency room!"

"DVT?"

"Deep vein thro- throm… bisis? No, bosis, definitely bosis- deep throat thrombosis. It's like," Lovino gestured uselessly, "blood clots. But bits of it can fall off and go to the lungs and clot there, which is life threatening."

"I- I don't know," Lovino concluded. "I'm not smart enough to understand it completely, but it's bad."

"Don't say you're not smart," appeased Antonio. "You are."

"I dropped out of high school; I'm not good at anything- the only reason they gave me this job was they heard about my brother and hoped that I would be similarly talented." Lovino stared at the tops of his knees, pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He squeezed his legs tighter, an air of solemnity surrounding him.

"They were wrong," Lovino finished limply.

"Just because you have bad grades doesn't mean you're stupid- maybe you were just too smart for the school! And you are talented, the coffee is great!"

"It's the machines that do all the work. I just press buttons and pour in water. I'm effectively useless. If I die, someone will replace me. That's all I am."

"No, no- you're so much more than that! I-" Antonio ran a hand through his hair, "I just- I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"And how do you see me?" Lovino mumbled. "Just some weird faggot patient to be fixed? An extra credit project for your psychology major?"

"No!" Antonio said so fervently it surprised even him. "You're not like that- not like that at all… you're my best friend, Lovi."

"Y-Your friend?" Lovino repeated slowly, almost disbelievingly, raising his head an inch to look up at Antonio through heavily lidded eyelashes, "I've never… had a friend before."

"Wait, seriously? N-Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added quickly, seeing Lovino's expression. "I'm just surprised.. is all."

Lovino  _tsk_ ed and rested his chin on the tops of his soaked knees.

The wet clothes clung to Lovino's skin and though Antonio tried to not look for Lovino's sake, he couldn't help but noticing, before averting his eyes, that Lovino was very skinny, in an unhealthy, starved way.

"If you're giving most of your money to your granddad," he said slowly, eyeing Lovino's ribs, "How are you making a living here?"

Lovino shrugged, leaning his head against the corner where the walls met, so that one side of his face was pressed to a wall and the back of his head rested against the adjacent wall.

"I get by," he mumbled finally.

"Really? Do you?" Antonio questioned him. "How do you buy food? How do you pay rent?"

"Like I said, I get by," Lovino said, his voice quiet but angry. "And it's really none of your business."

"But the cheapest rent in town is probably, like, $150 per month- how can you afford that?"

"I.. I live in a tenement building," Lovino said quickly.

Antonio frowned. "A tenement building? I don't think we have any of those in this town."

"Yeah, there's a couple," Lovino said, his voice full of fake bravado. "It's kind of.. out of the way."

"Behind the adult video store, right? That's what you said, the first time."

"R-Right. Yeah," Lovino stammered. "Regular tenement funster, that's me."

"Tenement funster?"

"It's a Queen song, idiot."

Antonio blinked. "You like Queen?"

"Of course I do, everyone likes Queen," Lovino said irritably, placing his palms on his knees and using them as leverage to hoist himself back up, "I need to get back to work."

"Can you?"

"It doesn't matter whether I can or can't, I  _need_ to." Reluctantly Antonio nodded.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it though? I mean, aren't you in pain?" he queried.

"'S'not too bad," Lovino grumbled, and then looked down at himself. "I'm all brown," he complained, rubbing two fingers together, acclimating himself to the sticky sweetness.

"Instant tan," Antonio joked. "You could sell that."

Lovino glared at him over his shoulder as he went to the sink, wetting his hands and rubbing his arms, streaks of deep brown streaking away to reveal tanned olive skin tainted with splotches of red where it had burned him.

"I could help," Antonio offered.

"No," Lovino said blandly, not missing a beat. And then, "Don't you have class?"

"Well, yeah," Antonio admitted, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, "But I'd rather stay here with you."

"You got into a good college, and you're wasting your education and money to sit around and drink coffee?" Antonio saw with alarm the tips of Lovino's ears grow red with anger, and he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

"I- yeah- I suppose you're right," he laughed nervously, taking a step backwards carefully. "Maybe I will go, then."

"You owe me a new outfit."

"Huh?"

"It's your fault I spilt coffee all over myself. You owe me new clothes. Size 7 women's or size 8 men's." Lovino rubbed furiously at his arms even though they were already mostly clean by now.

"You know what size you are in women's clothing?" Antonio couldn't suppress a laugh. Lovino stiffened, his face flushing with embarrassment as he realized his slipup.

"No- I can explain- it's not-" he stammered, turning around, but Antonio had already fled the room, chuckling.

"Wait!" Lovino ran out of the bathroom as well, the door swinging behind him and then coming back around on its hinges, whacking Lovino in the butt and causing him to stumble forward a few steps. When he looked up, Antonio was already gone.

* * *

That night, Antonio didn't return to the coffee shop. Instead, he carefully made his way through the dark alley that Lovino often used as a shortcut to his side of town and walked down the small, filthy road until he could see the neon sign of the adult video store. A little afraid, he walked around to the back and looked at the building in front of him.

Was it the right place? It seemed so unlikely, yet it fit. Quickly he looked right and left and around him, scanning for some other building that looked like a tenement building or even just an apartment block, but there was nothing save a 24-hour diner.

Slowly he turned his eyes back to the ugly, squat building in front of him and read the sign for the second time, scarcely believing his eyes as they ran over the letters:

'Homeless Shelter'


	10. Heartbeat

Antonio walked into the coffee shop the next day and threw a parcel down on the counter, startling Lovino.

"Here's a new set of clothes," he said, and then added, grinning, "Plus a skirt and two pairs of lacy panties."

"N-No, it's not- not like that!" Lovino stuttered, red-faced. "Feli just needed a girl to paint, and he didn't know any- don't look at me like that, he promised me he'd buy me fresh tomatoes!"

"So you dressed in drag for tomatoes?" Antonio chuckled.

"No! Well, yes- but-"

"It's fine," Antonio waved his hand lazily, still giggling a bit. "I'm teasing you."

"I- I knew that! I was just… playing along!" Under Antonio's sarcastic gaze, Lovino quailed. "Just give me the damn package," he grumbled and grabbed it, tugging it from Antonio's hands. As Lovino took the parcel, Antonio leaned forward and asked quietly so that no other customers could hear,

"Are you homeless?"

Lovino started, his face flooding with color as he took a hasty step back.

"W-Wha..?" he stammered. "Of course not! I live in a tene-"

"Yeah, about that," Antonio said. "I researched it, and there are no tenement buildings in this town, or any of the surrounding towns or districts, and there never were. So I went and checked out behind the adult video store, like you said, and there was nothing there except for a homeless shelter."

"You had no right!"

"Maybe not." Antonio shrugged. "But I wanted to know."

"You fucking  _asshole!_ I can't believe you did that!"

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped-"

"Because it's none of your  _fucking business_ where I sleep! It has  _nothing_ to do with you! Why would you do that- I-" Lovino brought his hands to his head, grabbing onto his hair as he began to pace in circles.

"Were you embarrassed? Because I do-" Antonio tried to say, but Lovino stopped dead and swiveled around to face Antonio, slamming his hands palm down on the counter with a large thud, leaning forward so close to him that their noses were almost touching.

"Don't tell Feli," he said, quiet but deathly serious, almost menacing. "He'll freak."

"I- I won't, I promise!" Antonio insisted, taking a step backwards and holding up his hands defensively. Lovino's lip curled as he stared Antonio down for what seemed like years until he finally growled,

"Get out."

Antonio didn't need to be warned twice.

* * *

Lovino finished stacking the chairs on the tables and sighed, wiping his brow before grabbing the mop and starting to clean the floor. He heard a knock on the window and looked up, expecting some poor bird had flown into the glass, but instead he saw Antonio standing outside, waving slightly, a guilty expression across his face. Lovino let out a scornful breath and returned to his cleaning, turning his back on Antonio, but in a couple seconds another knock resounded and Lovino, annoyed, turned back around.

Antonio was holding up a piece of paper torn from his notebook, pressed against the glass. Scrawled across it in big black letters was the word 'SORRY.' Lovino scoffed and once more looked away, but he had barely touched the mop to the floor when he heard another knock.

'CAN WE TALK?' the paper read. Lovino raised his middle finger in response and returned to his mopping. The knocking continued, getting more and more frequent and frenzied, and though Lovino tried his best to ignore it, after a while it became so insistent that he dropped his mop and marched over to the door, unlocking it and allowing Antonio in.

"What," he said in a still tone, picking up his mop again.

"Sorry about earlier," Antonio apologized. "I shouldn't have pried."

"No, you shouldn't."

"But I still don't understand something- why didn't you just stay with Feliciano in his dorm?"

Lovino sighed, straightening his back with a crack and righting his mop, resting an arm on the top. "I did, for a while," he explained wearily. "But after around a month, I got found out and was kicked out. I'm not allowed back in the dorms."

"That sucks." Antonio thrust his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, not sure what to do or say. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Lovino mumbled, starting to mop again, painting the dirty floor with white streaks of water and suds. "Besides, I was getting sick of staying there anyway. Feli and his stupid roommate kept flirting and… other things. So I wandered around for a bit until I found the shelter, and I've been there since."

"When you're done, can you take me there? To the shelter? I want to see what it's like."

"Why should I?" Lovino thrust the mop forward so hard he fell off balance and nearly slipped on the wet floor. His face red, he quickly righted himself.

"If you don't, I'll probably go check it out by myself, and it would make more sense for us to go together," Antonio explained.

Lovino scowled. "Fine," he said, though obviously not happy about it. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you."

"Naturally. How are your burns?"

Lovino squinted at him, trying to suss out any ulterior meanings to the statement, but found nothing.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"That's good," said Antonio cheerily. "Does it still hurt?"

Keeping his face turned away, Lovino answered, "Not really."

"Good," Antonio said cordially. Despite Lovino's anger, he was for some reason in a good mood, perhaps for finally deciphering one of the enigmas that surrounded Lovino's wane existence.

Lovino finished up cleaning as Antonio watched silently, then finally tossed his mop aside, threw on a sweatshirt, and led Antonio outside, locking up the shop.

Antonio followed Lovino through the alley, checking all around him as he emerged, making sure no one had followed him or Lovino. He was still a little paranoid after Lovino had gotten attacked that one night.

"You coming or not?" Lovino called over his shoulder as he trudged forward. Antonio quickly hurried to his side.

"Right, sorry," he apologized, watching the ground as he walked, making a roster of all the garbage he saw by the side of the road. Condoms: 3, 2 of which were used; soda cans: 13; flyers, pamphlets, and other handouts: 18; gum wrappers/gum: 14; beer bottles/cans: 21; plastic sandwich bags, one of which was filled with a dubious white powder: 16; two water bottles filled with some unidentified liquid that looked awfully like human piss; newspapers: 5...

Finally Lovino stopped and Antonio did too, lifting his head to see Lovino walk into the shelter ahead of him. Lovino stopped at a desk and signed something, then leaned forward and opened his mouth. The person at the desk brought a small device to Lovino's open mouth and Antonio realized it was a Breathalyzer. Then the person shone a light into Lovino's eyes, probably to check if he was high or not. Antonio came over slowly to Lovino, opening his mouth to speak, but in an instant the person at the desk had grabbed his jaw and brought it forward, using the Breathalyzer. Antonio felt a painful light in his eyes and then it was done. He stepped back thankfully, preparing to leave, but the person at the desk asked harshly,

"Any criminal record?"

"N-No," Antonio stammered. "Once when I was eight I accidentally broke a window with my baseball…" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lovino roll his eyes.

"Pedophilia? Sexual assault?"

"No- I would never-!"

"He's safe," Lovino groaned, annoyed. "Just a guest." He grabbed Antonio's arm and pulled him away.

"No sex in the shelter!" the person called after them.

"As if!" Lovino shouted back, tugging Antonio around a corner until the person was out of earshot. He lead Antonio into a long, narrow room that Antonio would have taken for a hallway if it wasn't for the rows and rows of bunk beds lining each wall. There were as much as four beds stacked onto each other, reaching up to the ceiling, and Antonio stood, gazing at the sight in awe, but Lovino continued tugging him and he lurched forward, stumbling after Lovino. A strong smell of mildew permeated through the whole place, and the paint on the walls was peeling off, the wood underneath rotting from the damp. Buckets and bowls were placed higgledy-piggledy all across the floor, halfway full, and if you waited you could hear the drops of water into the buckets.

Lovino brought him to a stack of bunkbeds and climbed up onto his, the second one, laying down flat on his back, arms behind his head because it wasn't high enough to sit on properly. Antonio joined him, a little wary, glancing at Lovino before laying down next to him.

There was a little shelf above where Lovino's feet would be, and on it was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, a simple cross leaning against the back of the bed, and a stack of English language books. Taped to the bottom of the bed on top of Lovino were lots and lots of photographs: A younger Lovino, Feliciano, and an old man whom Antonio took to be their grandfather; rows upon rows upon rows of grapes; postcards in Italian signed by Feliciano, writing side facing Lovino, print-outs of his brother's art, and a more recent photo of a sickly old man, the same one who seemed to be Lovino's grandfather.

"What's this?" Antonio asked, his arm lifting up and touching a thin piece of paper that looked as if it had been torn out of a book. Squinting at it, he realized that it was a page from the Bible, and it was similar enough to Spanish that he could sort of decipher it.

It was the familiar 'thou shall not lie with a man as you would a woman, for it is despicable' bit, and he frowned.

"You shouldn't have this," he commented. Lovino turned his head so Antonio couldn't see his face.

"So what if I do?" he mumbled, his voice muffled because his face was buried in his arm.

"It's not healthy," Antonio said. "It's important to have a positive attitude towards your sexuality."

"I- I'm not gay!" Lovino spluttered loudly. "I like br- breastses and vaginas!" He looked faintly nauseous as he said this, his pallor slightly green.

Antonio laughed. "You just keep telling yourself that," he chuckled, patting the top of Lovino's head.

"Don't belittle me!" Lovino yelled.

"I just want you to see that there's nothing wrong with you."

"There is nothing wrong with me, because I'm  _not gay!"_ Lovino insisted.

"If you keep denying it, it'll hurt more."

"You can't deny something that doesn't exist to begin with!"

Antonio sighed. "Alright, Mr. Straight-Man." He lifted his torso a little bit and scratched his stomach, allowing his shirt to ride up a little bit, revealing his abs. He yawned, flexing, and then peeked at Lovino out of the corner of his eye, grinning as he saw Lovino gawk at him, his face bright red. He lay back down, laughing slightly as he saw Lovino realize what Antonio had done, his face growing even redder until he quickly rolled over onto his side, facing away from Antonio.

"Still feeling straight?" Antonio chuckled.

"I hate you," Lovino huffed angrily.

"Really? Because your face is awfully red," Antonio teased. He rolled over as well, his stomach pressed up against Lovino's back. He attempted to slip an arm over Lovino, but he swatted his hand away as if he already knew what Antonio was planning.

"You're breathing down my neck," Lovino complained, his ears red. "Get off."

"Oh. Okay." A little disappointed, Antonio backed off.

Lovino closed his eyes, relieved, and let himself relax. He could feel his heart practically thumping out of his chest and he wondered if Antonio could hear it too, the rhythm pulsing through his whole body. Yet even though he could no longer feel Antonio against him, sending heated electricity throughout his entire body, swirling in his stomach and chest until he felt almost ill with something he couldn't identify, his breathing and heart rate didn't slow- just Antonio being near him now was enough to make him feel like he was going crazy.

And Antonio knew now, he knew what Lovino was, and where he lived, or didn't live- he knew practically everything! And yet he was still here, inches away from Lovino, in his  _bed,_ for fuck's sake, looking up at the scraps of Lovino reflected in pictures and letters and paintings, practically seeing into Lovino, the good and the bad and the uncomfortable churning of emotions without names that stewed inside of him everytime he so much as caught a whiff of the mixed smells that spelled Antonio; the smell of crayons and freshly mowed grass and, for the strange reason that Lovino had never gotten the nerve to ask Antonio about, tomatoes.

"Lovi?" Antonio's voice startled Lovino and he took a quick sudden breath, feeling his heart leap and his shoulders jump in surprise. And god, Antonio's voice, so smooth and deep and comforting, and the way he said Lovino's name, with the lilting Spanish accent that softened the 'l' and 'o' just enticed Lovino to the point that he was practically hanging off Antonio's every stupid word, every bad joke, despite how much he hated himself for it. He loved when Antonio shortened his name to Lovi, how he lingered on the 'i' at the end a bit and let it last and mingle in the air. If anyone else had called him that, he would have bared his teeth and attacked, but when Antonio said it, Lovino could feel all his defenses melting away.

"Sorry, did I startle you?"

"N-No, it's alright." Why was he being so complacent, damn it? He had to say something to let Antonio know he wasn't freaking out at the mere thought that Antonio was less than a foot away from him.

"Bastard," he added quickly. Yes. That was better.

Antonio laughed and Lovino felt his stomach flip- what had he done? What was so funny? Was Antonio laughing at him? And why did he care so much?

"Stop laughing!" He hoped Antonio hadn't detected the little quiver in his voice. "What's so fucking funny? You're shaking the bed!"

"Sorry, you're just.." Antonio wiped a tear from his eye, "You're just really cute."

 _Oh._ Lovino couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped his carefully guarded lips. He wondered if Antonio could hear his heart speed up as well, so much it almost hurt. He clutched his chest through his shirt, willing it to slow, to quiet, but of course there was no stopping now.

"You're kinda quiet tonight. Is something wrong?"

A note of panic rang through Lovino's whole body. Could Antonio tell? Could he see how much he was affecting Lovino, how he was causing Lovino's whole body and mind to stray from the carefully calculated path he had set for himself in order to get through life without feeling too much, without having to get close to anyone in the way he was now with Antonio?

"Lovi?" There he went again, with that stupid nickname- it was stupid, Lovino told himself, inane, and he absolutely  _did not like it_ when Antonio called him that, he did not feel his stomach jump into his goddamn throat whenever Antonio ended his name in that premature fashion that made his brain tick in the wrong direction and oh god Lovino could feel him- Antonio was touching his arm- lightly, barely enough to be felt by anyone else, but of course Lovino had to feel a wave of desire mixed with something else he couldn't place roll through his  _entire fucking body…_

"Don't touch me." Lovino surprised even himself. He forced himself to continue, even though every inch of him was aching, yearning for more, for Antonio to call his name and touch him in places Lovino had never even touched himself…

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't say my name. Don't stand close to me. Don't even fucking breathe near me!" Lovino could hear his voice raise in pitch and volume as he tried futilely to convince not only Antonio but also himself that he wasn't interested, that he didn't like Antonio in the slightest.

"Then I guess I'll go." Antonio unwillingly scooted himself off the bed and started to walk away. He paused, opening his mouth, but decided that if Lovino wanted him to go, he'd go.

Lovino's heart didn't slow down to its previous state until an hour after he had listened to Antonio's fading footsteps, relieved but yet also disappointed. He closed his eyes again, telling himself that this was for the best.

But then why didn't it feel like that?


	11. Dinner Date

Antonio paused, his finger hovering over the button. Finally he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stabbed the button with all his might, only opening his eyes and exhaling once he heard the dialing tone.

"Hello? Toni? You there?" Emma's familiar voice poured out of the speaker and Antonio could feel himself relax, the words he had rehearsed so many times now seemed easy and insignificant.

"Hey. I'm here."

"Antonio? What's up? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. I just want to see you. Can we meet tonight at 7?" he asked.

"Yeah, probably. Minelli's? We went there last time."

"Sounds good. See you then, I gotta go now."

"'Kay. Bye." She hung up.

* * *

"Hey, Ems," Antonio greeted his girlfriend at the door and she smiled back warmly. They sat down and perused the menu for a minute before Emma spoke up.

"So what did you need to talk about?" she asked, looking concerned. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" Antonio said so quickly he surprised himself. "Of course not! I just- I need to tell you something."

"Okay," she said, straightening herself in her chair, steeling herself. "What is it?"

Antonio took a deep breath. "So I met this g-"

"You're cheating on me?!" she burst out, then clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed for her loudness.

"No- no, God no. Why would you even think that?!"

"I don't know," she said, quieting, "I'm sorry."

"No, no,  _I'm_ sorry," Antonio apologized, shaking his head. "I should have been clearer. I just wanted to tell you that I met this guy, this coffee barista- anyway, I've been spending a lot of time with him." He saw her slight confusion and realized his explanation had been less than satisfactory.

"I mean," he clarified, "I went to get coffee, and I met this new barista, and somehow we got into a conversation. He- He's cold, but he's really a nice guy, and he-"

"Let me guess," she said, smiling slightly, "He's got a lot of problems and you want to help him out."

"Exactly!" Antonio said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because you always do this," she laughed. "In high school you befriended that janitor- Mr. Davis, wasn't it- and helped him get back custody of his kids. Last year you met that drug addict and helped her through rehab. Even when you were twelve, you discovered that the turtles in the local pond were getting hunted and brought them all to your house but your mom didn't let you keep them, so you hid them under your bed, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Antonio grinned, starting to laugh as well. "I guess I'm a sucker for a sob story, huh?"

"You're too nice for your own good," Emma said, leaning back in her chair, a playful grin on her face. "That's what I keep telling you."

"You're probably right. Anyway, the reason I wanted to tell you this was so that you didn't get the wrong idea and think I was cheating on you or something. But it seems you already know the whole story," said Antonio.

"Yeah, I know the spiel. I've known you your whole life, how could I not?"

"You know me better than I know myself," Antonio admitted. "That's why I love you."

* * *

Antonio was caught up in such a frenzy of studying and reviewing notes that he didn't return until several days later, much to Lovino's chagrin.

"Where were you?" he demanded as the bell clanged against the closing door, signaling Antonio's tardy arrival.

"I'm sorry, I was just-" Antonio broke off, yawning. "-studying," he finished.

"I missed y-" Lovino cut himself off, his face turning slightly pink as he realized what he had almost said, and hurried to cover up his tracks, "I missed your business," he concluded lamely.

"Yeah, I know, I-" Antonio paused to yawn again, covering his gaping mouth with his hand. "Finals," he explained.

"Right."

"Anyway, can I have a mocha- three shots of espresso, please, I can't seem to stay awake, I-" Antonio struggled to suppress another yawn. He dug around in his pocket and brought out a crumpled five dollar bill and dropped it on the counter. Lovino gave him his change and then set to work on his coffee.

While Lovino's back was turned, Antonio slipped another ten dollar bill into the tip jar. Since he had learned that Lovino was mainly living off the tips, he had taken to leaving fives, tens, even twenties sometimes in the tip jar, hoping it would maybe take the edge off Lovino's perpetual hunger and maybe be able to buy him a coat as the winter temperatures started to drop even lower. He figured he could go without a few luxuries for a while. Lovino needed the money more than him.

Slowly Antonio unpacked his bag, placing his textbooks and notes on the table with a loud thump. He really didn't want to study, but he knew he had no choice. Lovino laid his coffee on the table, lingering a moment to peruse Antonio's notes and textbook. As Lovino examined his papers curiously, Antonio got an idea.

"Hey," he suggested, "Can you quiz me?"

Lovino frowned. "Quiz you?"

"You know, test me on this stuff. You can look at my notes- I've underlined the terms in blue. You can just ask me what stuff means and I can respond!"

"Do I have to?" Lovino complained, wrinkling his nose.

"Well, no, but it'd be a big help!"

"I have my own work to do. Like, actual work."

"Such as?"

"None of your business." Lovino turned sharply on his heel and stalked back behind the counter, pulling out a piece of paper from his apron pocket and smoothing it out on the flat surface. He bent over it, a red pen in hand, and read to himself, whispering the words.

"What is that?" Antonio asked, stretching his neck to try to see what it was. Lovino raised his middle finger at him and continued to read, not looking up. He circled something in red pen and then got out a calculator from the desk underneath, jabbing the buttons crudely. He chewed his lip nervously as the numbers added up, and then glanced at his paper, comparing the two figures.

Antonio watched him as his face fell and he buried his head in his hands, letting his face slide down until his palms were on his forehead, fingers tangled in his dark brown hair. He looked back at the calculator desperately and then, without warning or any small gesture or movement that might have indicated what he would do next, swore at the top of his lungs and flung the small hand-calculator across the room. He swore again, in Italian, ripping the paper up into little pieces and he was about to throw those too but Antonio grabbed his arm, preventing him from further destruction.

"What? What is it?" Antonio asked fervently.

"Three weeks," Lovino panted, breathing heavily from his tantrum. "Three  _fucking_ weeks and I'm out!"

"Out? From where?"

"The shelter!"

"They're just gonna kick you out?" said Antonio disbelievingly. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a shelter?"

"We each get 6 months, and I-" Lovino broke off.

"And you've used it up?" Antonio let go of Lovino's arm, letting it swing back down limply to his side. "But then- what are you going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Lovino exploded, his face blotched red from anger. "I don't fucking know- the cheapest motel rent in town is $80 and I have $54- I can't stay with my brother-  _FUCK!"_ he screamed, turning and punching the wall.

"Whoa, hey, Lovi," Antonio implored, but Lovino just drew back his fist and punched the wall over and over, a dent in the plaster forming, his knuckles bloody and dusted with bits of plaster.

"Calm down!" Antonio ordered, assuming a role of false commando and composure, but Lovino continued to pound the wall mercilessly. Upon realizing that pleading and yelling and cajoling wouldn't do any good, Antonio put his arms around Lovino's waist and pulled him away with much difficulty.

"It'll be okay," he tried to reassure Lovino, but even he didn't believe it. "We'll figure something out."

* * *

Antonio waited outside the coffee shop the next evening. He didn't have any money to spend, and it was about to close. Besides, he had something else planned beside a light snack. He scrolled through the messages on his phone as Lovino swept the floor until the door swung open.

"Loitering is a crime, you know." Lovino's frosty voice rang through the torpid winter air, little puffs of air birthed from his lungs.

Antonio grinned and put his phone away, looking up. "I'm not loitering," he argued, "I'm waiting."

"Tell that to the judge." A corner of Lovino's mouth tugged upwards, a crude hint of a smile. "Anyway. What did you want?"

"To give you this." Antonio dug in his coat pocket, bringing out a crumpled envelope. He smoothed it out and brushed the lint off of it and then presented it ostentatiously to Lovino.

"What is it?" Lovino asked, reaching out a tentative hand but not taking it.

"40 dollars. It's all I could scrape together for now, but later I-"

"I can't take this," Lovino said sharply.

"This is no time for pride- winter is coming and you'll be without a place to live, you need this money!" Antonio thrust the envelope at Lovino.

"I found a place already," Lovino lied quickly.

Antonio blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'm fine. Keep your money." Lovino pushed the envelope back towards Antonio and a little stunned, he stared at it for a moment before putting it back into his pocket.

"Anyway," Lovino mumbled, deliberately looking away from Antonio for he was afraid he would be able to sense the falsity in his eyes, "Is that all?"

"Uhh.." Antonio didn't have anything planned out- he had just assumed he would give Lovino the money and Lovino would be so grateful he would abstain from insulting Antonio for the evening.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "In that case, I'll go." He started to walk away but Antonio grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Wait!" he said, and then realized he had said it much louder than he had intended, practically yelling the word, so loud that Lovino jumped and a few people around them stopped and stared for a couple seconds before moving on. "Wait," he said again, much quieter, although he maintained his hold on Lovino's arm. "Why don't we go for dinner together?" he suggested.

Lovino eyed him suspiciously. "I can't buy anything with.." he paused and rifled around in his pocket for a second, pulling out a wadded dollar and a couple coins. He laid them flat on his palm and counted the coins, whispering the numbers as he added. "..two dollars and seventy-eight cents."

Antonio frowned. "You can't possibly make that little in a whole day."

"I get a paycheck at the end of the week, which I have mailed directly to my granddad. I live off the tips."

"Seriously? Is that even possible?"

"No." Lovino laughed harshly.

"Jesus.." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. While his family was by no means rich, they had a lot more money than Lovino had probably ever seen since he had come to America, and in a way Antonio was embarrassed by it. He so desperately wanted to get closer to Lovino, to understand him, to be his friend and confidant that to be so blatantly different in terms of socio-economic development and upbringing was practically a source of shame.

Yet Lovino seemed to be feeling as awkward as Antonio, staring at his shoes, his ears red.

"H-How about I pay?" Antonio asked, hoping his voice didn't show how out of place he felt. Lovino looked up as Antonio spoke, and then, embarrassed, looked back down at his feet again, biting his lower lip.

"I'll pay you back.." he mumbled, his voice tiny and barely audible over the noise of the traffic.

"Sure you will." As soon as the words dropped out, stewed in sarcasm, Antonio regretted it.

"Sorry," he said quickly, holding his hands up defensively, palms out. "I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't." Lovino's smile was forced, harsh, and gritty and Antonio could feel something rise up in the base of his throat sickeningly.

"I- " Antonio stammered.

"I think I'll go home," Lovino said, quietly but coldly, his voice piercing through Antonio, making him feel as if he had just taken an ice shower. He turned on his heel and started to leave.

"W-Wait!" Antonio called after his quickly retreating form, but Lovino didn't answer and continued walking. "I'm sorry!" he yelled, but his voice was lost in the freezing wind. "I'm…" He hung his head, ashamed. He couldn't believe he had said that- it had just come out- why did he always have to do this, why did he always have to fuck up…?

"For fuck's sake," a familiar, irritated voice sounded from right above his hung head, "you can't last a second without me, can you?"

"L-Lovi?" he sniffled, raising his head.

"Who else would I be?"

"I- I'm sorry!" Antonio wailed, suddenly throwing himself on Lovino and burying his face in Lovino's warm shoulder.

"H-Hey!" Lovino exclamated testily, but after a moment he softened a bit, even patting Antonio awkwardly on the back as he clutched Lovino's shirt like a child.

"I didn't mean it," Antonio moaned, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry."

"Shit, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'm so-"

"Jesus, I said it was okay! Small deal."

Antonio looked up, confused, and wiped his nose. "Small deal?"

Lovino frowned. "It's what you say, right? 'No big deal;' 'small deal?'"

"No," Antonio said, starting to laugh. "No one says that."

"Oh." Lovino seemed to deflate slightly. "Oh," he said again, in a slightly smaller voice.

"Don't worry about it," Antonio said. He paused, feeling his stomach rumble. "Dinner?"

* * *

Antonio watched as Lovino dug through two servings of rice and a whole platter of sweet and sour chicken, practically pouring it down his throat. Antonio only stopped him when he started to use his fingers to mop up the leftover sauce.

"Do you want some more?" Antonio asked. Lovino shook his head quickly, looking down at his scoured plate. Antonio could tell he was probably still hungry, but too embarrassed to ask for more, so he decided to give Lovino a break and take initiative.

"'Scuse me," he called, waving his hand at the server. "I'm still hungry. Could I have another order of this chicken?" The waiter nodded curtly and within minutes another steaming plate was brought to their table. Antonio took a couple bites of the chicken and then leaned back in his chair, announcing theatrically:

"Wow, I'm so full," he articulated, looking pointedly at Lovino, who was fidgeting in his seat. "I don't know how I'll finish all this. Lovi, you'd better finish for me."

Lovino glared at him. "You're a terrible actor," he scowled.

"Who, me?" Antonio raised his eyebrows dramatically. He subtly pushed the plate of chicken towards Lovino. He turned his gaze towards the plate and, shooting Antonio one last angry look, picked up his fork and began to eat.

* * *

Antonio saw Lovino home, waving goodbye at the entrance of the shelter. As he turned to leave, he saw out the corner of his eye Lovino watching him. He grinned over his shoulder at him, his smile widening as Lovino flushed red and quickly hurried out of sight.

Antonio walked with a spring in his step all the way home.


	12. Shards

Antonio hurried into the coffee shop, stamping his feet and blowing on his freezing, cracked hands as he welcomed the gust of warm air that awaited him in the heated interior.

"Happy winter," he said, even the sub-zero temperatures unable to dampen his spirits. Winter break was finally upon him, the terror of finals no longer looming over him, a dark cloud of stress and eraser stubble.

Lovino trembled from behind the coffee machine, his breath short. He leaned over just a little bit, to peek at Antonio, but a jolt ran through him as he saw Antonio smile at him in that familiar, enchanting way and give him a little wave. Quickly Lovino hid again, his heart knocking against his ribs.

Why did he always do this when he saw Antonio, damn it?! He had come to America for two reasons: one, because he had no choice, seeing as Roma threw him out, and two, so that he could clean his head, cure himself of his 'problem' so that he could return and Roma would be healthy again. And it seemed that the opposite of his hopes was happening- no matter how he tried to tell himself and Antonio otherwise, he couldn't help but feel his knees go weak every time Antonio walked into the room, couldn't help but hope that if he called Antonio 'bastard' enough times, he would start to hate Antonio the way he pretended to, couldn't help but continue making coffee and small change and humming that song Antonio always sang as he worked to pass the time until he next saw him.

He hated himself for feeling this way, for being this way. Some nights he would lie on his tiny cot at the shelter and stare at the pictures taped above him and see only Antonio, hugging the pillow and smelling the last remnants of Antonio's scent from that time he had come and stayed. One time he even packed up his few belongings, telling himself that he should just leave town and forget all about Antonio, but he barely got farther than the adult video store before he sat down on his duffel bag in an alley and squinted at the sky, trying to make out the faint stars hidden by pollution and clouds, and wondered how he would ever get home to Italy if he continued to think about Antonio, another man, in this way, and yet he couldn't stop.

Every night he prayed, clutching his cross between his hands clasped under his chin, whispering in Italian and bits of broken Latin and English, begging god to cure him of the confusion and pain swirling inside him, but of course there was no answer. Perhaps there was no one listening, he thought once, but then berated himself and did double prayers that night, pleading for relief from the unending rollercoaster of emotions taking place in his tortured brain.

His hands shaking, he brought Antonio his mocha and started to hurry away, but Antonio said simply,

"Wait," and Lovino couldn't refuse.

"Yeah?" he said, facing away from Antonio.

"You wanna go out for dinner tonight?" Lovino felt a soaring sensation in his stomach- yes, of course, but then Antonio spoke again and his stomach dropped like a heavy stone. "I want you to meet my girlfriend," Antonio continued.

Lovino couldn't move, rooted to the spot. A horrible rushing sounded in his ears and everything muted, there was only the horror and pain and embarrassment left. He could feel himself crumbling, felt like he was falling, and then he felt the impact of the ground and realized he had indeed fallen, the sensation of the cold linoleum and a pain in his leg woke him slightly, and over the rush in his ears he could hear Antonio yelling his name with worry in his voice, in that lovely voice, the voice that belonged to the man he loved, who loved someone else and not Lovino, never Lovino, because it was never Lovino, was it- there was always someone else, his brother, Antonio's girlfriend… even Feliciano ignored him now that he had Ludwig to take his brother's place... Lovino had scared away everyone with his rudeness and brusque attitude and now he had no one left…

"Lovino? Lovino!" Antonio yelled again, and his voice brought Lovino back. He blinked, and slowly he could see Antonio above him, green eyes right above his.

Lovino sat up quickly, unable to face those eyes anymore. His stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick. The rushing in his head hadn't yet ceased and it ached dully. Wincing, Lovino lifted a hand to it. He felt like lead: heavy, useless, a burden.

"What happened there? Are you okay?" Antonio asked and Lovino wanted to throw up; even now that voice still made his heart beat faster despite the fact that he knew Antonio didn't love Lovino and never would, because who would love Lovino? Who would love someone like him, who never said what he felt and instead what he wanted to think, who insulted and scared away everyone he had ever cared about, a sick faggot with nothing to his name and no talents or anything to be proud of?

"Just a bit dizzy," Lovino lied. "I just need to eat something and then I'll be fine."

"Ah, great. So will you be able to make it tonight? I'll meet you at 7."

"I can't." The last thing Lovino wanted to do was meet the pretty, nice, smart, rich girl that Antonio loved and see everything that Lovino lacked in her.

"Aw, okay. Another time then. You sure you're okay? I gotta go to class soon but I could skip if you really need me to." Damn it, why did Antonio have to be so fucking  _nice_ about everything, it made it so much harder to be angry.

"I'm good. Go to class."

"Cool, thanks. You can finish the rest of my pastry and mocha if you want. See you." Lovino didn't say anything, just nodded a quick goodbye, unable to look up until he heard the bell on the door jingle as it closed.

Slowly, almost painfully, Lovino picked himself off the floor, clutching the counter for support. He shuffled to Antonio's table and picked up the coffee mug, staring into its depths for a moment before yelling and smashing it on the ground, coffee and shards of porcelain flying everywhere. Lovino fell to his knees, the porcelain slicing his leg and the pain felt good, almost refreshing, bracing. He couldn't cry, couldn't speak, could barely even breathe. Dazed, he sat there for a long time until finally he pulled himself together and cleaned up the shards.

* * *

Lovino spent the rest of the day in a daze. Twice he messed up customers' orders, one of whom insisted another free one. When Lovino refused, the cardboard coffee cup was thrown at him, soaking him in the brown liquid. It wasn't hot enough by that point to burn, but just enough to sting, and it left his clothes wet, cold, and sticky for the rest of the day.

Glad to escape, Lovino trudged home, freezing in his wet clothes without a coat in the December winter. He reached the shelter, but was stopped at the front.

"Today's your last day," the woman at the front said. "Get your things together and be out within the next hour."

Lovino was too tired to even be angry with himself for getting too caught up in Antonio to remember his eviction. He just nodded, unable to comprehend what was happening. Slowly, he tore down the pictures and postcards from the bottom of the bunk above him. Slowly, he shoved his few belongings into his tattered duffel bag. Slowly, he signed out of the shelter and walked out into the winter night.

* * *

Lovino wandered around the town blankly, clutching his duffel bag. On this freezing night, no one dared be outside for too long, and yet here he was. It was so cold that when Lovino inhaled, the cold air froze his nostrils. Knowing he needed to find someplace warm and soon, Lovino pulled his sweatshirt up over his nose and his hood down to his brow, trying to cover as much of himself as he could, like some sort of dirty hijab. He headed to the bus station- he could stay there at least until midnight, when it closed, and then he'd have to find someplace else.

* * *

He fell asleep on a bench inside the station and was woken up by the janitor at around 1:30 am.

"Sorry," the janitor apologized, clutching a mop, "I let you sleep 'till I finished cleaning, but I really do have to lock up now. If you want you could-"

"I'm fine," Lovino interrupted, sitting up quickly and running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Really. Sorry to trouble you." Before the janitor could say anything else, Lovino had placed his hands on his knees and hauled himself to his feet and hurried quickly away, his duffel bag swung over one shoulder.

Without thinking, his feet carried him to Antonio's dorm building and he stood in front of it for a while, clutching his bag, swaying slightly and watching the light in Antonio's window, feeling a foreign pain in his chest. He couldn't go to Antonio. Not like this. Not when he knew there was nothing for him there.

* * *

He settled down in an alley between two houses, hugging his knees and arms to his chest, trying to conserve body heat. Still he was freezing and so he grabbed a couple smelly black trash bags and covered himself with them. They made him slightly warmer, but the stench was stifling and it took a while before Lovino could breathe.

He let himself fall sideways onto one of the trashbags, smelling spoiled milk and tomato sauce, and closed his eyes, hoping desperately for sleep, but it didn't come. Instead images of Antonio haunted the backs of his eyelids, like a perverse movie screen. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, but he couldn't rid himself of that familiar, smiling face. Even now, the thought made his chest warm and he hated the fact that it did. Pain and hurt welled up in his throat and quickly he brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes furiously, grinding into them with his palms until they hurt and Antonio's face had disappeared into popping pinwheels and fireworks.

Still, it was a while before he was able to fall asleep completely, and even then he woke up frequently throughout the night, his breath gathering in front of him.


	13. Why Her

He awoke to the sound of someone snickering in front of him. Quickly Lovino opened his eyes, only to see a scruffy teenager standing before him, holding a hose.

"Looks like you need a wash," the teenager said, his face twisted unpleasantly.

"No-" Lovino tried to say, holding his hands up pleadingly, knocking off the trash bags, but before he could finish a jet of freezing water shot into his face with such pressure that it actually hurt. He tried to scream, but water just piled in his mouth and nose, pouring down his throat and he couldn't breathe- couldn't breathe-

Quickly he got up, his eyes squeezed shut, using the wall for support and began to ran.

"Dirty hobo!" The teenager yelled and followed slowly, the water hitting Lovino's back with enough force that it made him stumble and fall, scraping his knee before he scrambled back to his feet. Finally he escaped the teenager and his hose, but he was completely soaked and freezing. Even though the water was no longer drowning him, he still couldn't breathe well because he was so cold, his lungs aching and freezing every time he inhaled. He doubled over, hands on his knees, panting, and then realized he had left his duffel bag behind.

Lovino straightened up, trying to take a couple deep breaths and cajole himself to go back there.

"Your pictures are there," he told himself. "Your Bible and your clothes." Finally Lovino forced himself to turn around and head back, starting at a jog and then increasing as he saw that the teenager was still in the front yard, peering around, the hose still in his hand. Lovino shot past him, seeing out the corner of his eye the young boy- he must have been about 15 or 16- reach for the nozzle on his hose and in an instant a blast of ice-cold water slammed into his back but Lovino kept running.. he stooped down, grabbed his bag and looped around the small house, jumping the chain link. A dog started barking and chased at his heels, yapping and baring its teeth menacingly. Lovino raced to the other side of the fence, placing a hand on it, one hand on his duffel, and swung himself over, running back to the front of the house where a jet of water blasted him in the face and he forced himself to keep running, keep running even as he couldn't breathe, his throat filling with water, suffocating him…

And then he had gotten past the boy and into the street. A car honked and squealed to a stop as he ran past it; as he reached the other side of the street he heard several voices yelling, swearing at him but he couldn't stop, his legs wouldn't let him, even as his hair was freezing, a small layer of ice forming on his skin as he ran and ran. He saw the time on the electronic clock signboard of the local bank- 9:32 AM, a whole half hour later than when he should have opened the shop. He made himself speed up, his body burning and freezing at the same time, his breath short and ragged. Finally he made it to the shop, a pang of heated panic rising in his chest as he saw Antonio waiting outside the glass door, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry as he checked the time on his phone again and again. His head lifted as Lovino neared and he opened his mouth, but Lovino just ran past him and pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocked the door as fast as he could with his shaking hands, and tumbled into the shop, falling to the hard linoleum. Exhausted, he rolled over onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought for breath.

"Lovi!" Antonio cried, hurrying into the shop and kneeling beside Lovino. "What happened- are you okay- why were you running- what from- oh my God, you're soaked!" Antonio reached his hand out to Lovino but he had neither the breath nor the strength to fight him.

Finally Lovino lurched upright, forcing Antonio's hand away and drawing a loud, raspy breath that broke off into a cough. His chest knocked against his bent knees and it felt hollow and yet so heavy, his whole body was so empty but still it weighed him down.

"What the hell happened?" Antonio demanded, and Lovino felt something- Antonio's hand, on his back, sending heat through his entire body.

"I-" Lovino tried to explain through breaths, in a way that wouldn't make Antonio worry, and yet the more he thought about it, the harder it was to breathe. "I got hosed," he gasped finally.

"Hosed? What do you mean?"

"Some kid," Lovino paused for breath, "turned on his hose and aimed it at me."

"Why?"

"You think I know?!"

"Right. Sorry." Antonio looked down. "I missed you last night. Ems- my girlfriend- really wants to meet you."

"Of course she does," Lovino groaned. Just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse, Antonio had to go and mention his girlfriend.

Antonio narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?" he said defensively. "You can insult me all you want, but don't insult my g-"

"I wasn't insulting her," Lovino coughed. "Relax." Antonio looked at him funny, as if trying to decipher some sort of hidden meaning, until he realized that there was none and he softened.

"Sorry," he apologized again. "I just-"

"Really love her," Lovino muttered, getting to his feet, keeping his face out of Antonio's sight. "I know."

"Glad you understand," Antonio said, and though the words were lighthearted, Antonio's face, unseen by Lovino, showed something else, something darker- longing, lust, and regret.

"Small mocha, two shots of espresso?" Antonio heard Lovino's voice from behind the coffee machines. He seemed less full of vim and vigor and vicious wit than usual, acting strangely sullen and it affected Antonio more than he would have liked to admit.

After a moment Lovino placed a steaming cup on the counter and said to the walls, "Small mocha, two shots of espresso, pastry?"

Antonio frowned. "Aren't you going to bring it to me?" he asked.

Lovino looked at him blankly. "Why would I do that?" he said, his voice empty.

"I-" Antonio felt something inside his heart quail and wither. He had the strange feeling that he had done this, that he had hurt Lovino in some way, but he didn't know how or why or how to fix it. All his textbooks and training and lectures worked for his test patients, for he was now interning at the psychiatric ward at the local hospital, helping to counsel inmates, but Lovino continued to defy everything he had learned and remain a mystery to Antonio.

Slowly Antonio got up, his chair scooting backwards and making a loud scraping sound against the floor as it moved. It was the only sound in the room and he flinched, the noise unholy and brash.

Antonio approached the counter warily, glancing at Lovino. Lovino was turned away from him, bent over a book. He was still soaked, but the icicles that had formed in his hair had since melted and a small puddle had formed beneath him, little droplets of ice water dripping off of him rhythmically. Beside him was a battered duffel bag, half unzipped, and Antonio saw inside it clothes and, the laminated surface gleaming under the fluorescent, off-white flat rectangular ceiling lights that adorned the ceilings of many a public venue, a picture he recognized from above Lovino's bunk bed; a sickly old man in a wheelchair with an IV and tubes under his nose. With a jolt, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and consulted the calendar; three weeks had passed.

"Where you staying nowadays?" Antonio asked, his voice echoing off the walls.

Without missing a beat, Lovino replied smoothly, "Feliciano's friend's apartment. I'm just keeping my things with me because I don't trust him with my stuff."

Antonio forced a hasty laugh. "I see." He leaned further over the counter, making sure not to knock over his coffee, as he strained to see the title of Lovino's book.

"What'cha reading?" he asked, giving up finally. Lovino held up the book while continuing to read:  _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

"That's a good book," Antonio mused. "I didn't know you were into those sorts of books."

"My teacher recommended it to me," Lovino said, turning the page.

"Oh, right- you take classes, don't you? I still don't really know what kind of classes they are," said Antonio hopefully, trying to garner an answer from Lovino, but Lovino merely shrugged.

"The first time we met, you said you were learning to 'not be a total fuckup,'" Antonio added helpfully. "And I said, 'I didn't know the University offered classes like that,' and you said-"

Lovino closed his book with a snap after folding the corner of the page to mark his place.

"I remember, you don't need to tell me," he said sharply.

"Cool! And then you said, 'they don't, I go to-'"

"You really want to know?" Lovino said, turning on his heel to face Antonio. He looked strained, tired, and angry, and Antonio worried he may have been too pushy. There were noticeable bags under his eyes, which were ringed with red and bloodshot.

He stared down Antonio for a second before sighing and reaching into his duffel bag, rummaging around until he pulled out a crumpled pamphlet. He dropped it on the counter

next to Antonio's coffee cup and then turned back around, opening his book, his ears red.

Antonio smoothed out the paper and read aloud: "Overcoming Social Anxiety: How to Interact With Others."

"Go ahead and laugh," Lovino mumbled, his ears and neck burning. "It's pathetic, I know."

"No, no, not at all," Antonio said quickly, trying to reassure Lovino. "I think it's… admirable, that you're trying to, er, get over it- you know?"

Lovino scoffed irritably but said nothing, determinedly looking at his book though he hadn't turned the page in a very long time.

"You okay?" Antonio asked, after minutes of eyeing Lovino suspiciously.

"Yeah," Lovino muttered, "Fine."

And then, so quietly Antonio wasn't even sure if he had heard it or not,

"Why her?"

Antonio froze in shock, almost hoping that it was his imagination.

"W-What?" he said, his voice feeling too loud and abrasive, but he got no reply apart from still silence, the coffee machines whirring.

"Your coffee's getting cold," Lovino said, his voice empty.

"I- yeah-" Antonio felt as if an anvil had been dropped on him; dazed, confused, he picked up his coffee and simply walked out the door, not letting himself look back.

* * *

Antonio didn't have the strength to return that evening and instead, the next morning, brought Emma to the coffee shop. Lovino's eyes widened as they walked in, hand in hand, his face turning slightly pink when they approached the counter together.

Antonio had decided he wasn't going to hide anything from Lovino anymore. To remind them both, but mostly himself, of his relationship with the kindest, smartest, prettiest girlfriend, he figured it would be best to introduce Lovino and Emma to each other, so that there was no confusion.

 _She's gorgeous,_ Lovino realized as she came closer. He looked down- the two of them, Antonio and his girlfriend, were so blindingly beautiful it almost hurt to look at them. Lovino could already tell they were the perfect couple; he could practically see the electricity flowing through their intertwined fingers, connecting them together in ways he couldn't imagine.

"This is Emma," Antonio introduced, a wide smile on his face, and  _god,_ Lovino could hear how much he loved her when he said her name like that, as if she was the most special thing in the world, and he wondered if anyone would ever say his name like that…

"Hello!" Her voice was warm and rich, and she extended a slender hand towards Lovino, forcing him to look up and at her.

"N-N-Nice to meet you," Lovino stammered, reaching his shaking hand to hers. She grasped his hand firmly and shook it much more powerfully than Lovino had expected for a woman of her build. When she was done he quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing his arm nervously.

"Ahh," she cooed, startling Lovino, and he looked up, but Emma was looking at Antonio. "He's sweet. Isn't he sweet?" She squeezed Antonio's hand.

Antonio's eyes met with Lovino's for a scarce instant, before Lovino flushed and directed his gaze at the counter. "Yeah, he's pretty cute," he admitted, grinning. He reached out to ruffle Lovino's hair affectionately, but Lovino, suddenly angry, smacked his hand away.

"Don't fucking talk about me in front o-" He broke off, coughing wildly. He doubled over, unable to stop, one hand clutching the counter for support, the other in front of his mouth. He had been coughing and sneezing a lot since the previous morning, when he had slept outside in winter and been doused with cold water. His chest, head, and throat ached numbly, and Lovino was pretty sure he was ill. However, he couldn't not work: if he took a sick day he would have nowhere to stay and would end up being outside, which would make his illness worse. No, the best place for him right now was inside the warm coffee shop, and as long as he washed his hands frequently he should be okay. The real problem was what to do when work was over; he obviously couldn't stay in the same alley he had two nights ago, and last night he had gotten about maybe four hours sleep total in a public bathroom, which had not been heated during the night.

Finally the coughs ceased and he straightened up, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he tried to apologize to Emma and Antonio, who were staring at him, agape, but he started to cough again, though not as violently as before. "Sorry," he said again, once he was finished completely.

"I think I have a-" he sneezed, "A- A cold."

"You think?" Antonio said, though he looked concerned, as did Emma. Lovino merely wiped his nose and asked,

"Mocha? And for Miss… er, Emma..?"

"I'll have a macchiato," she said, a look of faint worry still on her face. "Oh, a caramel one," she added, as Lovino turned around to wash his hands after receiving the money from Antonio. He nodded, and as he washed his hands he noticed that they were shaking. He could hear two chairs scraping on the ground as Antonio pulled out a chair for Emma before getting one for himself. Antonio mumbled something quietly, too quiet for Lovino to pick out distinct words; he could just hear the pleasant low hum of Antonio's voice, and then Emma's high, tinkling laughter. Lovino scowled.

He was just drying his hands when he burst into another coughing fit and had to wash his hands all over again. A whole two minutes had passed before he could start the coffees.

Finally he brought two mugs over to their table, receiving two small "Thanks" from Emma and Antonio, and then scarpered as quick as he could. He didn't want to have to look at the pair of them, chatting and flirting and being the cutest goddamn fucking couple in the whole fucking world. If Lovino were a girl, could that be him; sitting across from Antonio and looking into his deep green eyes as Antonio spoon-fed him the whipped cream on top of his mocha and laughed about something inane…

"Lovi?" Antonio's voice broke Lovino out of his daydream and he looked up sharply. "We're gonna go now," he continued.

"Oh. Right." Yes, please leave, so Lovino didn't have to look at the two of them being happy together and be reminded of all his faults and why he could never have that.

"It was really nice meeting you, Lovino," said Emma kindly.

"See you," said Antonio.

Lovino didn't reply to either of them, just nodded and waited for them to leave.

* * *

The next few days he spent in a sort of feverish haze; even though he was wearing the warmest clothes he had, he was always freezing, and there was a strange pain in his chest and throat when he coughed or even breathed. During the night he could never sleep, but during work he found himself nodding off frequently. His coughing fits were even more frequent and painful and several times he wondered if he should just swallow his embarrassment and pride and actually ask for help, but he always dismissed these thoughts, yelling at himself internally for even thinking it. He was  _not_  going to give in, damn it!

And yet, after one particularly bad coughing fit, he pulled his hand away from his mouth and saw with horror that it was speckled with blood. The first thing he thought was:  _Antonio._

 _No._ He berated himself, shaking his head frantically as if he could shake Antonio off his mind, but it just made him dizzy. He couldn't go to Antonio for help, he just couldn't. Even the thought of Antonio was painful, and it was because of this he had come up with a plan:

If he couldn't make himself not love Antonio, he'd have to just lock up those feelings, hide them so far away even he wouldn't be able to dredge them back up again. Because not feeling anything was better than feeling the pain he felt when he thought of Antonio and his gorgeous girlfriend Emma, who was everything Lovino was not.

And despite the fact that he had promised to not love Antonio, nothing changed- he could still feel his heart speed up whenever Antonio walked into the room, could feel something inside him melt whenever Antonio said his name, could feel his knees go weak and his body temperature rise if Antonio got close enough.

 _Give in,_ one part of him said, but if he did, what would happen? What would change? Antonio would still love Emma, Lovino would still feel his heart leap when he heard the bell on the door jingle as Antonio walked in… no matter what, every ending was the same: Antonio didn't love Lovino, he never would, and nothing Lovino could do would make Antonio fall for him. Yet even as he told himself these cold, hard, facts, trying to convince himself that all he could do was hide his true feelings and continue numbly on, some part of him kept hoping, kept dreaming, and as hard as he tried to reason with himself, he couldn't stop.

* * *

_I just want to say that the event that occurred in the first part of this chapter actually happened to a friend of mine. Many homeless people experience prejudice or unwarranted hatred on the assumption that they are addicts or mentally insane or just the dregs of society, when in fact most are just unlucky people. So please do not judge someone by whether they wear a suit or rags; a person's wealth is not a legitimate commentary on their actual being._

_Thank you for reading._


	14. The Ambulance Ride

Lovino practically dragged himself to work the next morning. His limbs were so heavy he could hardly move, and he had no energy whatsoever. Finally he reached the shop and unlocked it, stepping inside. He coughed into a tissue, seeing with disgust the red staining it when he pulled away. Angrily he crumpled it up and tossed it into the dustbin along with all the other bloody tissues.

The bell on the door jingled and he looked up sleepily, only to see Antonio.

"Wow. You look horrible," Antonio remarked, taking in Lovino's pale, sallow complexion, the dark circles under his eyes, his hollow cheeks.

"Thanks," Lovino started to say sarcastically, but halfway through, he erupted into another coughing fit.

"Sor-" he coughed, "Moch-" He coughed some more.

"Hey, you… are you okay?" Antonio asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah-" Lovino bent over the sink, retching. "-Fine-" Several drops of blood fell from his mouth and made loud  _plink_ s as they hit the metal sink. He stuck out a hand to tell Antonio not to come over, but it was too late; Antonio was already by his side, peering over Lovino's shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw what it was.

"Blood," he realized. "You're coughing up blood."

Lovino was too tired to even argue; he just stood there, bent over the sink, feeling blood drip off his bottom lip and pool in the sink.

"…come on….hospital…lets go…" Lovino couldn't make out what Antonio was saying; the words swirled around in his head until they dissolved and were replaced by static.

"…Lovi…can you hear me…Lovi…Lovi…Lovi…" The name stuck in Lovino's head and repeated over and over, grossly, and he felt sick, he couldn't stand it anymore, yet it continued, speeding up until it was just high-pitched gabbling 'LoviLoviLoviLoviLovi..'

Vaguely he felt his arm shoot out, and felt skin under it- he was pushing Antonio away- his legs were moving- he was running- blurred shots of lines of packets of coffee flew across his retinas and he realized he was in the storage room- the door shut behind him- there was a pain in his side: he had run into a shelf; he felt around, spots filling his vision, and tried to run again- he tripped over a broom and grabbed a nearby shelf for support- he felt it give under his hand and something cold- fear- constricted in his chest as he forced himself to look up at the shelf that was toppling onto him…

* * *

"Lovi!" Antonio yelled, and he rammed his shoulder into the door again, trying to force it open. Finally the lock busted and Antonio hurried into the room.

"Hello, yes, I need an ambulance," he gasped into his cellphone, staring warily at Lovino's limp form collapsed on the floor, a shelf crushing him. Several glass bottles had fallen from the shelf and broken on him, and he was covered in syrup and coffee beans and powder. Antonio gave them the address, and then he tossed his phone aside and scurried to Lovino's side. His muscles straining, he lifted up the shelf a little bit and, using his foot, he nudged Lovino out of the way before dropping the shelf back onto the floor with a large crash. He picked Lovino up gingerly, cradling him in his arms, his head lolling back against Antonio's forearm. All of a sudden, Lovino slowly lifted his head up, coughing, and Antonio realized he was still partly conscious.

"Lovi?" he said frantically, but Lovino just kept coughing, an amazing amount of blood spitting out of his mouth and all over himself and Antonio.

The door burst open and two people clad in yellow garb rushed in, carrying a stretcher between the two of them. Reluctantly, for he didn't want to let go of Lovino, Antonio placed him gently on the stretcher and followed close behind.

He entered the ambulance and while some of the emergency crew glanced at him warily, they did not make him leave. He stayed, silently watching, as they rolled Lovino onto his side, because he was beginning to choke on his own blood, as they placed on his face a plastic mask that pumped air into his nose and mouth because he couldn't breathe on his own, as they tubed nutrients into his veins…

* * *

Lovino dreamed he was kissing Antonio, who, for some reason, tasted like blood. He opened his mouth slightly, to let Antonio in, and there was a strange sensation inside of him… he couldn't breathe.. he opened his eyes in alarm, trying to pull back but couldn't, and all the air was flowing out of him- Antonio was literally taking his breath away… Lovino tried to breathe but there was only blood, filling his throat and lungs, he was drowning, suffocating…

"He's not breathing!" yelled one of the emergency crew, and another pressed on his chest, up and down, up and down. He wore the customary surgeon's mask over his face, but what made him stand out was the red fez perched jauntily on top of his head, contrasting greatly with his yellow fluorescent uniform. He looked sideways at Antonio as he did so, narrowing his eyes as if contemplating something. Finally he said, pulling his mask down to under his chin so that Antonio could see his whole face,

"You wanna do CPR?"

"H-Huh? Me?" Antonio pointed to himself doubtfully.

"Yeah, you just pinch his nose- lock your lips over his, like that, good job," the man commentated, watching Antonio. "Now put your hand on his chest, and push. Keep pushing and then letting go. Don't stop, even if you break a rib. Got it?"

Antonio nodded as best he could with his mouth on top of Lovino's, tasting blood. He closed his eyes, billowed his cheeks, and breathed as forcefully as he could. Lovino's chest lifted briefly; Antonio could feel it under his hand as he pushed. He breathed into Lovino again, encouraged, and his body jerked in response, one finger twitching slightly. Something gave under his palm and Antonio realized it was a rib, maybe two. He tried pushing again and all of a sudden, Lovino coughed- startled, Antonio pulled back as Lovino attempted to sit up, coughing wildly, spewing out blood mixed with phlegm.

"Shit, Lovi, you alright?!" Antonio gasped, but Lovino didn't answer, just fell back down onto the stretcher after he finished coughing and resumed his unconscious state.

"Nice job," said the emergency crew man, nodding impressively. "You got a little something.." the man tapped his jaw beneath his lower lip. Antonio wiped his mouth with the back of the hand, but only succeeded in smearing the spot of Lovino's blood. The man pulled an expression of friendly indifference.

"Ah well," he lamented jovially. He leaned against the wall of the ambulance, crossing his legs. Carefully he took off his fez, dusted it off, and replaced it on his dark hair. Antonio could hear the radio playing faintly in the front, and the man tapped his foot absentmindedly to the beat. Antonio would have thought him a bit rude to be enjoying himself, considering that they were in an ambulance beside an unconscious man who was obviously very ill, but the man seemed so good-spirited and amiable that Antonio couldn't find it in him to be mad.

"How are you so..?" he trailed off, worrying that he might have offended the man, for he looked up, blinked, surprise showing in his raised eyebrows and slightly opened mouth, but Antonio's fears were assuaged when he burst into laughter.

"Why am I so.." the man waved his hand in a circular fashion, fishing for the right word, "..lax, you mean?"

Antonio nodded apprehensively.

"Well, I suppose… it's just the job, I guess. I see many people everyday, with their guts spilling out, or a bullet hole in their neck, or twelve stab wounds… you just get used to it. And your friend here," he nodded towards Lovino on the stretcher, "doesn't seem to be too bad compared to what I've seen before, praise Allah." He raised his eyes upward momentarily, as if he were speaking to Allah up in heaven directly.

The ambulance stopped abruptly and the man flashed Antonio a reassuring grin before pulling his mask back up over his face, unlatching the back hatch of the ambulance and lowering it into a ramp, which he then rolled Lovino's stretcher down and onto the asphalt, another crew worker at the other end. He said to Antonio something that sounded like,

"This is my favorite part," and Antonio wondered what that meant, but then the two men started running, barging into the hospital and making such sharp turns around hallways and passages that Antonio worried that Lovino would get tossed off. However, they all made it to the emergency unit in one piece, and one nurse was courteous enough to pull out a chair for Antonio in the corner before rushing over to the stretcher and immediately getting lost in the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding Lovino.

Antonio sat and watched, as the doctors and nurses yelled out terms and abbreviations that he didn't know or understand, as new ones came and left, bringing or taking away various tools and utensils, as they connected tubes and needles up to Lovino. He watched them until his eyes hurt, because it was all he could do: sit and watch, as the many white coats and blue uniforms blurred into one big white fuzz surrounding the stretcher. Sometimes, when one of them moved away, Antonio was able to see a bit of Lovino for a second: an arm; his shirt, cut open so the doctors could access his chest (Antonio knew Lovino would be furious by the loss of a shirt when he woke up, and the thought of Lovino waking up cheered him up slightly), his soft, messy hair, before another doctor or nurse replaced the spot and Lovino was lost to Antonio once again.


	15. I'm Not Your Damsel in Distress

Lovino slowly opened his eyes and then shut them instantly: a generic rectangular fluorescent ceiling light was right above him, burning his eyes. After a while, he opened his eyes a crack and attempted to sit up, but as he moved a sharp pain in his chest forced him to lay back down again.

"Lovi!" Antonio's voice rang through Lovino's head painfully loud, and even after Antonio had finished speaking the sound still echoed in increasingly metallic tones until there was just a long, high pitched  _bleeeeeep_ that finally faded away. Antonio must have seen the discomfort and pain, for he said hurriedly, and quieter,

"Sorry, was that too loud? Did it hurt? They said you'd be in pain for a while- why aren't you opening your eyes, are you okay, Lovi, are you-"

"I'm fi-" His throat felt like gravel had been poured down it and he found it hard to speak. Even his vocal cords weren't cooperating and it came out in a quiet rasp before he burst into coughs.

"Here." He heard the coarse sound of a chair scooting closer and winced, his head ringing again, and then he felt something wet on his lips and realized it was water; he opened his mouth to lap it up eagerly but it poured down his throat and he started choking.

"Oh, shit, sorry- um-" He felt Antonio's hands, strong and firm but yet amazingly gentle pull him to a rough sitting position. Lovino apprehensively opened his eyes now that the light wasn't directly above him, but the room was still too bright for comfort and hurt his head. He tried to lift a hand up to it, but it was too heavy and barely moved. However, Antonio seemed to understand and turned the light down to a dim setting.

"Thanks," Lovino mumbled, but it only made him cough again. Antonio quickly fetched a plastic bedpan from the foot of the bed and held it under Lovino's mouth to catch the blood. Several dull thuds like raindrops on a roof sounded as blood and mucus landed in the pan and Lovino flinched with each one, feeling pain in his ribs, chest, lungs, throat, head, and even back as he did so.

"How are you feeling?" Antonio asked quietly.

"Like shit," Lovino answered truthfully and, groaning, he started to let himself fall back down into a laying position.

"No! Wait- Lovi- don't-!" Antonio said, getting up so quickly he knocked his chair over with a loud crash that reverberated in Lovino's head. Lovino wondered what he was talking about, but then he hit the hard hospital bed and knew; a sharp, piercing pain sliced through his entire upper back, feeling as though he had just been knifed- he let out a loud, sharp yelp from the pain and Antonio quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sound. Smaller, muffled screams slipped through Lovino's lips, getting increasingly quieter as the seconds ticked by slowly and the pain subsided back into a dull, constant beat, leaving with only his gasping breath and a cold sweat that coated his body.

"There are stitches on your back," Antonio said once Lovino had calmed somewhat, taking his hand off his mouth. "From the shelf and the bottles."

Lovino looked confused, so Antonio said again, "The- the shelf..? Remember?"

Lovino tried to shake his head, but it hurt when he moved it and it only urged him to cough some more. Antonio held the bedpan under his chin and Lovino spit out the blood when he was done, grimacing. Every breath he took hurt, and when he coughed his chest and throat ached and tore.

Antonio sighed. "They said you might not remember- you have a really bad concussion. You were trying to run away from me, but you had 104° fever and were delirious. You tripped over a broom, I think, and grabbed a broken shelf for support. One of the legs was wobbly, and it fell on top of you. Then I," Antonio grinned rakishly and flexed his arm muscles mockingly, "lifted the shelf with my bare hands and rescued you, fair Lovino, my damsel in distress."

"I'm not a damsel," Lovino croaked, starting to cough again; luckily the pan was still under his chin. "Nor am I in distress."

"A shelf fell on you, and several glass bottles that were on the shelf broke on your back and head- I think that's pretty distressing, don't you?" Antonio replied, still grinning.

"And you are a damsel; a princess, my poor Italian princess locked in a tower of coffee and homophobia. And I rescued you and carried you in my arms, and we rode off into the sunset together on a white pony!"

Lovino scowled. "You're ridiculous," he huffed, and tried to roll over onto his side, facing away from Antonio, but yelped in pain. He felt Antonio's hands again, gingerly lifting him back onto his back and settling him on the pillow gently. Under Antonio's touch, the pain seemed to drain out of Lovino, replaced by something else; a giddy, hot sensation, and when Antonio lifted his hand Lovino almost wanted to grab it and pull it back down on him, have Antonio never let go so he could feel like this, always…

"But my poor, poor princess," Antonio continued softly, and Lovino opened his mouth to tell him to stop calling him a princess; he was a  _man,_ for fuck's sake and men shouldn't treat other men like that, it was just weird and wrong and sinful, but he couldn't speak, for Antonio was gazing into his eyes with such intensity Lovino worried he might just melt,

"A horrible spell was placed on him, which broke his ribs and pierced his back, and it will only be lifted by the prince's magical kiss." He waggled his eyebrows impressively. "Guess who the prince is," he grinned, and Lovino's heart skipped a beat… he could feel his face growing hot, and something inside him squirmed pleasantly.

"S-So kiss me then," he said, trying to sound defiant, like he didn't care.

"Very well," Antonio said, not losing the same air of pretentiousness he had maintained throughout his fairy tale, and sat down on the side of Lovino's bed, placing his hands on either sides of Lovino's shoulders, lowering himself so slowly Lovino wanted to grab his collar and pull him down, but he couldn't move, he could only stare as Antonio's green eyes got closer and closer… Lovino closed his eyes, waiting, his heart practically thumping out of his chest… he could feel Antonio's breath tickling his face… and then he felt it, Antonio's lips on his- his cheek…

Antonio gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then drew back. Lovino could feel the disappointment rising in his chest and throat, as if he had swallowed a stone, and he was tempted to grab Antonio's face and try again, make him do it right…

Antonio's face was still hovering right above Lovino's, and he was filled with the sudden urge to punch it. How dare Antonio trick him like that- how could Lovino let himself get so careless; he half wanted to punch himself for falling for Antonio's prank, yet his heart was still beating fast even now that the experience was over.

Antonio's green eyes met with Lovino's own, and then he grinned and Lovino felt his heart leap and couldn't suppress a gasp- Antonio was beautiful, so beautiful, and  _God_ Lovino wanted him so bad that his chest hurt, and then the pain reminded him just why he couldn't have Antonio, why he had to bury what he felt right now so deep he would never feel again.

"Get  _off,_ you bastard!" Lovino yelled, his throat and chest aching in protest, and he summoned all his strength and shoved Antonio off of him and then threw the covers over his head, hiding himself, for he could not bear to look at Antonio or to have Antonio look at him.

From beneath the blanket, lost in a tangle of thin, off-white fabric, Lovino heard Antonio sigh, pick up his chair, and then, of all things, laugh.

Lovino felt a twinge of annoyance join the dulling pain in his chest.

"But seriously," Antonio said, his voice in a tone of seriousness Lovino had rarely heard before, "We need to talk."

Lovino didn't answer. He knew what was coming: 'why didn't you tell me,' 'I could have helped,' 'you're such a coward,' why coward afraid cowardwhyafraidwhywhyhelpwhycowardwhy…

There was a rustling above him and he opened his eyes as Antonio pulled the cover off his face, exposing him once more.

"We're waiting for the results of your CAT scan right now, but they're already pretty sure what your problem is. You've been out for a while, so I thought I'd bring you up to speed. Basically, two of your ribs broke from the shelf falling on you, and there was a large gash in your back from the broken bottle. Then,"

To Lovino's amazement, Antonio got out a pad of paper. Lovino lifted his head slightly, his back aching, and saw that it was notes: Antonio had taken notes from the doctor's lecture. Lovino would have laughed at his dorkiness if it hadn't hurt so much.

"Then," Antonio said again, a finger on the paper, "You have really,  _really_ bad hypothermia- they were amazed you survived this long, but sometimes, apparently, when people get really cold, it kind of… preserves them, you know? Like hibernation, sort of. And that's what they think happened to you- it looks as if you've had hours of exposure, yet periodically you kept warming up, presumably from work, and then you'd go back to almost freezing to death and then warming up again." He looked up from his notes and saw the confusion and fear on Lovino's face.

"Like," he said, trying to explain, "You'd get so cold you were on the brink of death but it sort of preserved you long enough to get to a warm area, and that just kept happening over and over. It basically run down your immune system, your body- even some of your organs. And  _then,_ as if that wasn't enough," Antonio flipped the page and perused his notes,

"It looks like you have pneumonia. Of course, they can't tell for sure until they get the CAT scan results back, so we're just waiting."

Lovino closed his eyes wearily but Antonio continued, his manner slightly less upbeat than it was before.

"And.." Antonio faltered. "I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but.."

"But?"

"You- You're getting deported. Back to Italy."

"W-What?" Lovino croaked, trying to sit up on his elbows, but it hurt too much and he had to lay back down instead.

"But!" Antonio added so quickly and loudly it hurt Lovino's ears and head, "I'm coming with you."

" _What?!"_

"Yeah- as soon as you get discharged, I'm gonna get a plane ticket too so you won't be alone in Italy. I'll be your… er, your moral support, I suppose, and I can help you work things out with your grandfather!" He puffed out his chest impressively.

"Why?" Lovino snorted. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Well, you- you're my friend," Antonio said, looking a little offended. "So I want to help you out. And it sounds like your grandfather could use a talking-to."

Lovino laughed again despite the pain in his chest. "You can't give my grandfather a 'talking-to.' He's 87 and doesn't speak English."

"And that's why," Antonio fumbled inside his bag for a moment before pulling out a small pocket book, the words 'E-Z Italian' written in yellow letters on the front, "I'm learning Italian! And you can help me."

"You want me to teach you Italian when it hurts just to say the word Italian?" Lovino said disbelievingly, but instead of it having the comic effect he had intended, Antonio's brows furrowed in concern and he looked genuinely afraid.

"W-What? It hurts to speak? Doctor!  _Doctor!"_

"Fuck, Antonio, it's-" Lovino broke off, coughing. "It's fine," he rasped, spitting out blood, but as he did so, a medical student and a man in a white coat hurried into the room.

"What?" asked the medical student, looking both excited to be working but afraid as well for her patient.

"He- He says it hurts to talk," Antonio explained, shooting a glance at Lovino.

"Oh. Yeah. That's to be expected," the doctor said, and procured a clipboard from the medical student behind him. "I have the results of the CAT scan back, and it's definitely pneumonia. One of the worst cases I've ever seen." He glanced at Lovino over his glasses and under his gaze, Lovino shrank back, subconsciously pulling his blankets up to his chin like a frightened child.

"Specifically, you have bacterial pneumonia, so you'll experience symptoms like a high fever, chills, pain when you breathe, fatigue, pain in your chest and abdominal area, short and rapid breathing, and coughing up mucus. In addition, you're suffering from malnutrition, so while you're here we'll work to bring that up."

"But that's not all," the doctor continued, sounding like a devious game show host who found Lovino's illness a form of entertainment, a corner of his mouth twitching up towards his mustache, "You've also got severe pulmonary aspergillosis."

"Wha-" Antonio started to stand up, looking as if he were both about to either burst into tears or start a fistfight, but the doctor shushed him with an air of pompousness.

"Basically there's mold growing in your lungs- have you lived somewhere that has lots of mildew and moisture and generally bad sanitation?"

"Yeah- the shelter," Antonio answered before Lovino could even open his mouth.

"Yes. Well," the doctor flipped the page over, "You must have breathed in a spore or something, and now there's mold growing in your lungs. This seems to have exacerbated the symptoms of pneumonia, but what we're really worried about is if it's the type that gets into your bloodstream. If it does manage to get from your lungs and into your bloodstream, and if it already has, it can be fatal because then it can go on to infect your major organs. And the risk is doubled for you because you have pneumonia and were suffering from severe hypothermia, which took a big toll on your organs and, most importantly, your immune system."

"We'll need a blood sample, to see if it's in the bloodstream, and if it is, we'll need a blood transfusion." He lowered his glasses and looked directly at Antonio.

"What blood type are you?" he asked.

"Me?" Antonio pointed at his chest, as if there were many others in the room to whom the doctor could have been speaking. When he got no answer save the cold gaze of the doctor, he replied,

"I think I'm an O..?"

"And you?" the doctor turned to Lovino.

"I- I don't know," Lovino confessed, and coughed twice into the bedpan still under his chin.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. Mary," he snapped, and the medical student who had been standing dormant beside him snapped into action.

"Yessir?" she said, as if in the army, and Lovino half expected her to salute.

"You've practiced blood samples before, haven't you?"

"Yes sir, but only on dummies and guinea pigs." She played nervously with the small ID pinned to her coat lapel that identified her as a medical student.

"How would you like to try one on a real patient?"

"Really?" she gasped, her eyes sparkling. "I mean- if it's okay with you, Mr.." she rose up on her tiptoes to peek at the doctor's clipboard, "..Mr Vargas?"

Lovino tried to say no, but was interrupted by a particularly bad coughing fit and couldn't answer.

"Great," said the doctor brusquely, rubbing his hands together. "First, Mary-"

"The antiseptic," she said, already rubbing at Lovino's arm furiously with a tiny wipe. "And then the rubber band." She tied a strip of rubber around Lovino's arm, cutting off his bloodstream and forcing his veins to pop out.

"Now, you'll feel a little poke," she warned, and then jabbed the needle into his arm.

Lovino howled angrily.

"Does it hurt? Do you wanna hold my hand?" Antonio asked worriedly.

"Fuck no! And I'm fine, just-" he glared momentarily at Mary, "startled, that's all," he finished. Antonio made a grab for his hand anyway and Lovino attempted to smack him away.

"You don't need to hold my hand," he hissed.

" _I_  do, I'm scared of needles," Antonio whimpered and grasped Lovino's hand with such force one of Lovino's knuckles cracked. Lovino rolled his eyes, feeling his face grow hot, but he didn't have the strength, in more ways than one, to pull away. After what seemed an eternity, Mary and the doctor left, leaving Lovino alone in the room with Antonio.

Antonio waited a moment before asking quietly, "Can we talk?"

 _Here it comes,_ Lovino thought, and bracing himself for the onslaught, he nodded slightly.

"You've had hours of exposure, so bad that you almost died- how? Weren't you living in an apartment? Did it not have heating?" Antonio tried to sound innocent and curious, but he couldn't keep the accusation out no matter how hard he tried.

Lovino closed his eyes, chewing his lip. How could he get out of this one? There was nothing he could say that wouldn't just ascertain the fact that he had lied. He didn't want to see those big sad puppy eyes of Antonio's when he learned that Lovino had lied, hadn't trusted him, had rebuffed him in so many ways that Antonio didn't even know of…

"I... " Lovino desperately searched himself for some plausible reason that wouldn't be blatantly false, but with all his experience in lying, for once he couldn't think of one. "I lied to you." he admitted finally, unable to look Antonio in the eyes. "I was... I didn't have anywhere to go, so I.." he trailed off.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have- could have-" _  
_

"Could have what? Hid me under your bed?"

"I could have done  _something,_ which is better than what you did! You almost let yourself... you almost- almost-" Antonio was unable to finish the sentence. Choking back tears, he thrust his arms around Lovino's thin shoulders, sitting on the side of the bed, his torso twisted awkwardly so that he could hold Lovino.

"You almost died!" he sobbed, burying his face in the delicate curvature of the gap between Lovino's neck and shoulder. The familiar scents that meant Lovino both comforted and saddened him.

"Shit, Antonio, it's okay," Lovino wheezed, still struggling for air, but Antonio just dug his face in harder, feeling the soft cartilage and then the bone, sticking out perhaps more than it should.

"N-No it's not!" he wailed. "You- you could have died from hy-hypothermia and m-m-mold in your lungs and you still could die if they d-don't…" Antonio broke off, dissolving into tears. The only thing that kept him grounded was Lovino, his scent; his skin; his hair, tickling his nose; his lean back under the hospital gown that Antonio was clutching into.

"Oh god, Lov _ino.."_ bawled Antonio. "I don't know what I'd do w-without you,  _mi amor.."_

He didn't even realize he had said it, but Lovino stiffened under his grasp.

"W- What did you say?" he croaked, but it was lost under Antonio's sobs.

Finally Antonio calmed somewhat and wiped his nose on Lovino's sleeve, much to Lovino's disgust, but when he tried to berate Antonio he broke into a coughing fit and couldn't continue.

"You… you never said anything." Antonio sniffed, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped.." Antonio folded his hands together in his lap, looking down at them solemnly. "Do- Do you not trust me?" His voice cracked.

"No- I-" Lovino found it hard to look at Antonio and instead focused on the medical sink on the other side of the room with the leaky faucet. Every 14 seconds a droplet of water dripped down into the smooth, rectangular, metal basin.

"I just.."

_I just can't trust you, because you made me fall in love with you, and then you told me you had a girlfriend._

_I was embarrassed._

_I didn't want your help._

_I didn't want you to see me like this._

Lovino had no clue what the best option was. "I just find it hard to trust anyone. I'm sorry."

"What am I to you?" Antonio asked, the question taking Lovino by surprise and he struggled to think of an answer that wouldn't give away how he really felt.

"I- I don't know," Lovino admitted.

"Aren't we friends?"

"I... suppose we are…"

"Then why can't you trust me?" Antonio demanded.

"I just- I can't trust anyone- after Feli-"

"After Feli what? Did he tell Roma?"

"Yes!" Lovino's shoulders shook. Fuck, he was giving too much away, he should have just kept quiet- but now he couldn't stop.

"And then Roma… when he found us, he said we wouldn't have to be alone anymore… and now he- he won't even speak to me!"

"Lovi.." said Antonio quietly. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of Lovino's, but Lovino quickly moved his away.

"D-Don't look at me!" Lovino cried, wiping his eyes furiously, but stopped suddenly when he felt Antonio place an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close to his chest. His hands, of their own accord, crept up Antonio's back and he clung to him like a baby. He started to cry harder; huge, heaving sobs working their way up his throat, and hated himself for it, for showing such weakness in front of Antonio, for not being able to let go.

"It's okay," Antonio whispered. "You don't have to be alone anymore." Silent tears dripped off his cheeks and wet Lovino's hair.

"R-Really?" Lovino sniffed.

Antonio stroked Lovino's hair. "Yeah. Really."

* * *

A foreign buzzing vibrated against Lovino's stomach and he jumped, startled.

"Sorry, that's me," Antonio wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve and drew back, pulling a slim black smartphone that was buzzing wildly from his shirt pocket. He pressed something on the screen and then held it up to his ear.

"Y-Yeah," he said, trying to sound as if he hadn't just been crying. Lovino gawked at him for a second before quickly rubbing the tears off his cheeks. He turned his head to the wall, trying to look as if he were very interested by a switch on the wall and not listening to Antonio's conversation at all.

"Antonio?" he heard a tinny female voice on the other end. "Where are you? I've been waiting twenty minutes in the snow for you!"

"I'm sorry- I'm at the hospital right now-"

"The hospital?! What happened? Are you okay?" Lovino could hear her voice rise hysterically in pitch.

"No, no, I'm fine," Antonio reassured her hastily. "It's not me. It's Lovino."

There was a pause.

And then: "On my way."

"No need, Ems- I was just leaving anyway," said Antonio, already pulling on his coat, switching his phone into his other hand so he could put his arm through the sleeve and then returning it to the original hand, swinging the other sleeve on.

"Are you sure? Because I can-"

"It's fine. Really," Antonio said, winding a scarf around his neck. " _Will you be okay?"_ he mouthed to Lovino.

Lovino nodded, closing his eyes. When he moved his head so fast, his vision jiggled up and down and blurred together, making him nauseous. He waved his hand frivolously, as if to say, 'go.'

" _Thanks,"_ Antonio mouthed. He left.

"I'm leaving right now. Love you, Emma." His voice carried down the hall along with his distant footsteps.

* * *

Lovino allowed himself to sink down in his bed, inch by inch until he was laying down again, so gingerly that there was only minimal pain in his back.

_Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you…_

Lovino turned his head and vomited off the side of the bed.

* * *

_Seven hundred people experiencing or at risk of homelessness are killed from hypothermia annually in the United States. Forty-four percent of the nation's homeless are unsheltered._

_It is a very real and dangerous problem that often is not properly addressed. Many shelters, like the one Lovino was staying at, can only foster a person for so long. Others may only be open during the night._

_Many of the chronic problems faced by the homeless people, including inadequate clothing, malnutrition, and underlying infection, further increase the risk of developing and dying from hypothermia._


	16. Emma's Anger and Antonio's Betrayal

Antonio knocked on the ajar hospital door before opening it and stepping in. Lovino was slumped over a plastic tray holding, what looked like to Antonio, more plastic.

"Looks disgusting," he commented, pulling up his chair from yesterday and sitting down heavily, his legs spread wide apart.

Lovino poked at the heap of Jell-O with his spoon but didn't pierce it or eat it, instead watching it jiggle.

"They said my stomachs not ready for real food," he said sullenly, poking the Jell-O again. "So it's protein powder and Jell-O for now. Assholes," he added, as an obligatory side word meant to convey his low opinion of the nurses and doctors, which it did well.

"Yeah, well, I brought you something," said Antonio, grinning, and he produced a plastic shopping bag and turned it over, tossing the contents onto Lovino's lap. Out rolled half a dozen red, ripe, tomatoes.

"Tomatoes?" Lovino frowned, picking one up and examining it.

"Except this time you don't have to dress in drag for one," Antonio teased, and Lovino's face flushed instantly with embarrassment and rage.

"You- you-" Lovino spat, but Antonio merely held a tomato up to Lovino's cheek.

"See, and now you look like a tomato, you're so red!" Before Lovino knew what was happening, Antonio had snapped a picture on his mobile phone. He held it out for Lovino to see.

"I think that'll make a nice background, don't you?" he smiled sweetly.

"Go shove a cactus up your piss-hole," Lovino snarled. "And while you're at it, let me borrow your phone." He made a grab for the smartphone but Antonio quickly yanked it out of reach.

"You'd just delete it! And we can't have that, can we?" His green eyes sparkled playfully.

"Give it back!" Lovino cried, trying futilely to catch the phone, but because he was so weak, he might as well have been a baby trying to reach the plastic toys that often dangled above their cribs.

"Never! Muahahaha!" Antonio imitated a fake bad villain laugh, tossing his head back so that his dark curls caught the light. He threw an arm over his face like Dracula, but fell off balance and the chair tipped backwards and then slipped, and he fell clumsily to the floor, one arm still stuck out dramatically above him.

Lovino couldn't stop the laugh from escaping, and with it slipped another. Antonio hauled himself upright and blew the hair off his face. Grinning, he sunk into a low, ostentatious bow, enjoying the sound of Lovino's laughter.

Antonio had only heard Lovino laugh like this once before, and he had an inkling that it was a sound not many others had experienced before. It was a rare occurrence, and that made it all the more special and enchanting. He could fall in love with that laugh, with that voice, with the person it belonged to… that is, of course, if he didn't have an obligation to love Emma and only Emma, he reminded himself.

 _Emma and only Emma._ It was a phrase he often found himself chanting in his head whenever he was with Lovino, a futile effort to try to remind himself that Emma was the only person he loved and the only person he ever  _would_ love.

However, it didn't seem to be convincing both him  _and_  Emma: just last night, when he had showed up late to their date, his eyes red and puffy and his cheeks still wet with tears, she had taken him home and tried to comfort him, meaning that they had had sex. And just when he had been about to climax, he had groaned, much to his later embarrassment,

"Oh God, Lovi-" And then caught himself halfway through. Emma hadn't said anything, but the absence of her usually bubbly demeanor, replaced by a sort of tight-lipped, quiet anger, showed that she had heard.

And yet…

After Antonio had seen the blood dripping from Lovino's mouth and into the sink; the shelf toppling down onto him; had carried his limp and seemingly lifeless body in his arms; had placed his mouth over Lovino's bloody one and breathed into him- when he thought back to it later, he could see that it was the most intimate thing a person could do: give someone else air, practically giving them life, resurrecting them from the dead and into your arms again… since then, he had realized how much he really cared about Lovino and how much it affected him to watch Lovino suffer and not be able to do anything about it.

He tried to console himself that he would react that way to anyone suffering- he had had a long history of trying to help people and even animals out without expecting anything in return, but this… this was different. This was  _Lovino,_ and no matter how many times he muttered the old phrase ' _Emma and only Emma'_ under his breath, he couldn't deny that he felt something when he was around Lovino that he had never felt with another person before, not even Emma.

And so he laughed, feeling guilt swill around in the back of his head but unable to stop, not now, not ever, not as long as Lovino was around to tempt and entice and allure him without even knowing how beautiful he really was…

* * *

Lovino laughed, his ribs and lungs protesting, screaming, until he couldn't laugh anymore and the pain became too great that he forced himself to think of something boring, like physics class in high school, to calm himself down. His chest heaving, he gulped down air like a fish on land.

"I'm good," he gasped, before Antonio could even ask. Deep breath in. Count to three. Breathe out. Breathe in. Count to three. Breathe out. Repeat as many times as necessary.

Antonio picked his chair back up and restored it to its previous position. Still giggling a bit, he sat down, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor.

"No, but seriously," said Lovino, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes wearily, a pillow supporting his sutured back, "I really do need to borrow your phone."

"Why?"

"I need to call Roma. Tell him I'm coming back."

"Say you're bringing a friend," said Antonio, handing his phone over reluctantly.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You're still going on about that?"

"I wasn't lying," Antonio said, looking more determined than ever. "I'm going with you."

Lovino snorted. "Suit yourself," he muttered, obviously thinking Antonio wouldn't actually do such a thing. He busied himself with pressing numbers and then held the phone to his ear warily. Antonio could hear the dialing tone from where he was sitting.

There was a click. And then,

" _Ciao?_ " a man's voice rang through.

" _Ciao, nonno_ ," Lovino said. " _Sono io_. It's me. Lovino."

There was another click and then loose beeping. Lovino took the phone from his ear and stared at the screen.

"I don't believe it," he said. "He hung up on me. That old bastard hung up on me!" Lovino gritted his teeth and gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles white. His fingers slipped on the sides from sweat. He raised his arm, preparing to throw it, but Antonio quickly wrestled it out of Lovino's grasp. He cradled it in his hands before placing it in his pocket and looking back up at Lovino.

"Godammit!" Lovino yelled, but started coughing, blood splattering across the white blanket and sinking into it, spreading across the white and staining it. Antonio quickly grabbed the bedpan to catch the rest.

Lovino leaned back on his pillows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but he only succeeded in smearing blood across his cheek.

"I hate this," he choked.

"Your granddad or being sick?"

"Both."

Antonio digested this information for a moment. "Want a cuddle?" he finally suggested.

Lovino wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something nasty. "Why the fuck would I want that?"

"Well.." Antonio scratched his head, "Because you're sick and your life sucks and I'm very squishy and warm and comforting."

Lovino snorted. "No thanks."

"Or you could sit in my lap and I could braid your hair and read you stories!"

"Yeah, good luck braiding this hair." Lovino reached a hand up and patted the back of his head, then frowned.

"It's gotten longer," he murmured distractedly. "I'll have to cut it again."

"You cut your own hair?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"How do you cut the back? It looks all even and smooth. If I tried to do that, I'd probably just stab my neck."

Lovino shrugged and then stopped. Wincing, he held a hand up to his rib and Antonio figured it probably hurt when he did that.

"I've just been cutting it since I was little," he gasped, still massaging his rib.

"Seriously? Your mom didn't just cut it for you?"

A muscle in Lovino's jaw clenched and Antonio wondered if he had said the wrong thing or if it was just the pain.

"She's not… she wasn't the type to do that," he said finally.

"Oh." Antonio decided to not poke the subject further. "Well," he said, in a false, cheery, upbeat tone, "Why don't you eat your tomatoes?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes at Antonio suspiciously before cautiously taking one and rubbing it on his shirt. He took a bite, still looking at Antonio.

"In the meanwhile, I brought something else," said Antonio, grinning. He pulled a book out of his bag and Lovino recognized it as a copy of  _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

"You were reading it before," Antonio explained, "And I thought you might like to finish it. I could read it to you, if you like. Where were you at?"

"They're bringing Norbert up to the tower," said Lovino. He pronounced Norbert like 'nour-burrrt' and it was so cute that Antonio didn't bother to correct him.

" _Harry and Hermione climbed.."_ Antonio opened the book and began to read. Lovino settled back on his pillows and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips as he ate his tomato.

* * *

Antonio turned the last page. He looked up. Lovino had fallen asleep, a half-eaten tomato still in his hand. Careful not to wake him, Antonio plucked the tomato out of Lovino's hand and finished it off, not wanting to waste it. He wiped his hands on his jeans and then pulled the covers up over Lovino so he would be warm. He snored softly, a peaceful expression on his face.

Antonio packed up his things and then, almost naturally, by instinct, he kissed Lovino's forehead lightly. Lovino's nose twitched and Antonio worried for a moment that he would wake, but thankfully Lovino slept on.

At last Antonio managed to pull himself away and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

"You're going to  _Italy?!"_ Emma exploded, as Antonio shoved shirts into a suitcase.

"I told you already!"

"But term starts in two weeks! You can't afford to miss it!"

"I told you, I'm going, and that's it." Antonio pressed his weight on the suitcase, trying to get it to shut.

"What about school? What about your grades?"

"He needs me, Ems." Antonio gave one final shove and it closed with a snap.

"Yeah? What about  _me?"_ Emma's voice quivered. "My birthday's in a couple weeks- we were going to drive up to the city together, remember? And then dinner at my parents'? What about that? Are you just gonna miss it?"

"I'll be back by then," said Antonio wearily.

"Even then- why are you doing this?"

"I  _told_ y-"

"I know what you said!" Emma said shrilly. "But- he's just… just a friend, right? And yet you're going to- to- to fucking  _Italy_ for him?!"

"I have to."

"You don't  _have_ to do anything! You could stay here with me!"

"You know I can't do that," said Antonio quietly.

"It seems lately I don't know  _shit_ about what you're doing- you spend all day at that damn hospital and don't even answer my calls or texts! What do you even  _do_ there all day? Each other?!"

"I just read to him!" Antonio swiveled around angrily. "I don't know why you're getting so upset- I'd do the same for you!"

"Exactly! You'd do the same for me, because you  _love_ me! So why are you doing all this- and more- for some random kid who made you coffee? What is he, to you?"

"He's just my friend," said Antonio, pressing a hand to his temples tiredly.

"Yeah? Then why'd you say his name the other night?!"

"I didn't- I don't know what you're talking about," Antonio said quickly.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!"

"I- that was a mistake! Just a mistake!"

"How many more mistakes will you have to make? When will you realize that- that- that you love him more than you ever loved me?!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Th- That's not true and you know it!" shot back Antonio. Emma gave a sob and tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Oh god, Ems, I'm sorry," gushed Antonio, holding out his arms for Emma. She rushed into them, crying into his chest as Antonio held her tight, his lips pressed to the top of her head in a silent kiss.

"I- I know," she sobbed, her voice muffled. "But I can't help thinking it."

 _Me too,_ Antonio almost said, but stopped himself. As he held her, feeling her chest heaving against his, he couldn't stop himself from thinking it too.

Was what she had accused him of really true? And if so, what then?

* * *

_Hello, Liesel here. I just want to add some explanation. I base the characters and their backgrounds mainly on their history, so here's a little history lesson as to why Lovino is so poor when Feliciano is so well off, and Roma's bias for Feliciano, etc._

_Basically, the southern part of Italy has always been the poor, farming area. There are some big cities, but are nothing like the ones in the more northern part. In addition, the north and it's numerous cities have always been the center of culture and the arts, wealth and sophistication, whereas the rural South is more just farms, maybe some tourism but not much, and more farms. The Italian Renaissance took place in Northern Italy, particularly Florence, while the South stayed un-cultured and unwealthy. That's why I have Lovino as poor, but hard-working, because that is what the South is like. I wrote Feliciano as indulgent, educated, talented, and perhaps a little lazy, because I think that reflects the spirit of the North._

_Also, since the North had more cities, which meant more people, which meant a greater variety of people, which meant more freedom for cultural, sexual, and artistic expression, I have Feliciano written as accepting of his (bi)sexuality. The South, being rural farming country, is more sparsely populated, meaning more narrow-minded people and less room for individualist expression; so I had Lovino struggle with his (homo)sexuality._

_One of the main reasons the Italian Renaissance happened in North Italy is because of it's placement over/near Rome. They uncovered many Roman artifacts, including sculptures and art in a more realistic style, prompting the North Italian artists to add more secular basis to their paintings. Beforehand, as you can see in many Middle Ages art, the purpose of the painting was not necessarily to convey human body or landscapes accurately, it was to show the glory of Gd, and as humans/landscapes/backgrounds/etc. were no comparison to Gd, they were overlooked in the cause of religion. However, inspired by the realistic Greek and Roman figures/statures and their newfound cultural heritage, combined with the inventions of canvas, oil paints, and the printing press, they began painting from a more secular, realistic approach._

_Thus Rome indirectly nurtured the Italian Renaissance, while the South remained poor, so this is why I have Feliciano written as Roma's favorite, in addition to the actual Hetalia comics/anime, where Lovino/S. Italy reflects upon how Feliciano was always better/smarter/more loved than him._

_I hope this provides some insight into my reasoning._

_Thank you for reading._


	17. Sheepies and Cowsies and Horsies

Antonio visited Lovino almost every day until he was released from the hospital a week and a half later. He was still quite sick, but he was taking up a bed which someone else needed, so grudgingly, they checked out of the hospital.

"Are you  _sure_ you're feeling okay?" Antonio asked Lovino for the eighth time as they trudged through the thick layers of snow coating the ground. Lovino grunted through his many layers of clothes; Antonio had showed up on his release day with a coat, two sweaters, a scarf, a hat, gloves, three pairs of socks, and his old pair of boots.

"What was that?" Antonio tilted his head towards Lovino.

Lovino pulled his scarf down off his face with a scowl. "I'm-" he broke off to cough, doubling over, his hands on his knees. Antonio placed a hand on his back as he coughed, watching nervously.

"I'm fine," Lovino finished.

"Are you sure? Like, 100% sure? 110% sure? I could call a cab-"

"For fuck's sake, Antonio, I'm fine!" Lovino straightened up, forcing Antonio's hand off of him.

"Really? How are your ribs? Your back? Does your chest still hurt?"

"Can we just go? I'm freezing my ass off!"

"You're cold?! Do you need my coat? I brought an extra scarf- just a minute.."

"Oh my god," Lovino groaned, starting to walk ahead. At the sound of Lovino's footsteps crunching on the snow, Antonio looked up from his bag.

"W-Wait for me!" he called, hopping after Lovino one-footed, for one boot had gotten stuck in the snow. Lovino trod a few more paces and then stopped. He crossed his arms, looked down at the ground, sighed, and then turned around and helped Antonio get his shoe back on.

"Alright, are we good?" he asked irritably, in the manner of a parent who has grown tired of their child's whining. "I don't want to be late."

"I know, I'm sorry…"

They continued walking, heads down, hands in their pockets, marching through the thick snow. The walk to the airport was just a little under a mile now, but it was hard work wading through the snow in heavy, sodden clothes.

The sound of Lovino's labored, heavy breathing mixed with the wind and it was a while before Antonio realized he couldn't hear it anymore.

Panicked, he looked around and spotted Lovino about twenty or so feet behind him, bent over, one hand on a knee, the other grabbing onto the ledge of the window of a nearby building, holding him up. As Antonio approached him, he could hear a loud, whistling, wheezing noise coming from Lovino. His coughing sounded like coins rattling in a vending machine and Antonio ran as best he could towards Lovino in the knee-deep snow.

"Lovi!" he yelled, but the wind stole his voice. Finally he made it to Lovino, just as Lovino's gloved hand, which had been clutching the ledge for support, slipped. His body went weak and he fell, almost straight into the snow, but Antonio rushed forward in a surge of adrenaline and caught him.

"I really think this is too much for you," he berated Lovino, but received no answer. Keeping a strong hold on Lovino, he pulled him away in front of him and attempted to stand him up, but Lovino's legs wobbled as if they were made of jelly and he collapsed again. Lovino coughed and choked and hacked and wheezed and gasped and panted but couldn't seem to be able to regain his breath.

"They said this might happen," Antonio warned. "Hypothermia can leave lasting effects, remember? And the mold isn't completely gone yet."

"I'm- fine-" Lovino wheezed.

"No you're not!" said Antonio, pressing his hand to Lovino's sweaty forehead. "See, you've still got a fever. I don't care what the doctors say, I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"I can't-" Lovino broke off for air and then continued, "I can't miss the- the f-"

Antonio considered that for a moment. It was true he couldn't miss the flight; it had been scheduled for him and if he did, he'd have to deal with the government, which would not be pleasant. Lovino hadn't even been conscious when the Immigration Court had ordered him deported.

"Fine," Antonio grumbled, obviously not happy about it. "But you have to tell me if it gets too much." He stuck out a hand to help Lovino up.

Embarrassed, Lovino took it, still coughing, and Antonio hauled him roughly to his feet, but he was still weak and somehow ended up pressed up against Antonio with Antonio's arms around him, holding him up.

"Why don't I carry you the rest of the way?" Antonio offered.

Lovino was too exhausted to protest or even be embarrassed, and clambered onto Antonio's back like a child.

"Alright, here we go," said Antonio, and stood up, hooking his arms under Lovino's legs to support him. Lovino put his arms around Antonio's neck, feeling his face grow warm but embarrassment, but he was too tired to care. It was a nice feeling, being on Antonio's back, feeling his muscles ripple under his stomach, soaking up the warmth that emanated from him. Lovino only hoped that Antonio wasn't able to feel how fast his heart was beating, but if he did, he didn't comment, just continued plowing forward through the snow.

Lovino rested his cheek on Antonio's shoulder bone. He drunk in the scent of Antonio, closing his eyes satisfactorily.

 _Maybe being sick isn't so bad,_ he thought.

* * *

Antonio stopped suddenly, forcing Lovino to open his eyes reluctantly.

"We're here," said Antonio, and as he spoke his vocal cords and chest vibrated under Lovino. Antonio crouched down and Lovino slid off. Antonio handed him his bag.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," said Lovino.

Together they made their way through the airport. Antonio had to stop sometimes and wait for Lovino, but they managed to get to the plane in time.

They boarded together, and Antonio let Lovino take the window seat. Lovino's hands were shaking and he was very jumpy, on edge. Antonio wondered briefly if he was just ill or scared of flying, but when the plane started to take off, Lovino was clenching the seat so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You okay?" Antonio shouted over the noise, but Lovino just gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. His face was slightly green.

Finally they got into the air and the plane steadied out, but Lovino still stubbornly grasped the seat rests.

"Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to reassure him. "The plane isn't going to crash or anything." But as soon as he said the word 'crash,' Lovino took a sharp breath and clutched at his cross hanging around his neck, one hand still on the seat rest. Lovino's lips moved soundlessly, and Antonio realized that he was praying wildly, his voice barely audible over the plane's roar.

A middle-aged woman stopped past them as she made her way up the aisle.

"Nervous flier?" she asked, smiling slightly. She was rather round, but in a pleasant gathered, plump, way, as if her excess weight were a favorite shirt or scarf.

"Yeah." Antonio smiled back at her.

"You two are so cute," she said. Antonio's smile dropped and he looked quickly at Lovino, hoping he hadn't heard, for fear of him going into a murderous rampage, but he was so absorbed in his praying it didn't seem he had even noticed the large woman standing beside them. When Antonio turned his head, she was gone.

Slightly perturbed, Antonio settled back in his seat and opened up his book. However, to his annoyance, he found he couldn't concentrate; Lovino's incessant praying was bothering him.

He tapped Lovino on the shoulder gently. Lovino looked up, but continued muttering under his breath.

"Could you maybe… you know.. take a break?" Antonio suggested mildly.

"Good idea," said Lovino, to Antonio's surprise. "You can take over for a while."

"W-What?"

"You can pray for a while, I'm getting tired," Lovino explained.

Antonio breathed a tiny laugh and shook his head. "No- you don't have to pray, Lovi, it's fine. I'm sure the pilot has it under control."

"We're in a giant metal bird- what do you think is keeping it up? Air?! If I don't do this, we all die!" Lovino gestured wildly, nearly knocking the book out of Antonio's hand. It was obvious he was very stressed.

"No, actually, air  _is_  holding us up, along with propulsion and the engines," Antonio explained.

"Yeah, right," Lovino scoffed. "Air.  _That's_ what's holding us up."

Antonio blinked. "D-Didn't you take physics?"

"I slept through it. And all my other classes. I told you, I dropped out." Lovino yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Why?"

"Roma was too old to work, so I started working full-time instead of just part-time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to fly." Lovino turned his head sharply, crossed his arms, and resumed his prayers.

Antonio watched him for a moment, stunned but also, somehow, cheerful. That answer was so sarcastic and brusque and just so… Lovino, that it joyed him. Lovino opened one eye, peering at Antonio.

"Stop looking at me!" he complained. "I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."

"Sorry, I just.." Antonio scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. However, Lovino seemed to be feeling the same, a rosy color that hadn't been there before tinting his cheeks as he stared determinedly at the gray, mundane wall of the plane.

Antonio buried his face in his book, but couldn't resist looking up every few minutes to watch Lovino, and then quickly hide his wandering eyes with the novel whenever Lovino moved.

For the fifth time, Antonio looked up, only to see Lovino staring back at him. Lovino's face flooded with color as their eyes connected, and he looked down, ashamed, but Antonio was just as embarrassed as him.

"Sorry," he said quickly, but just then, the plane seemed to have hit a bump in the air and as Antonio was buffeted an inch or so off his seat, he heard a shriek and then felt a pain in his arm. He looked down, the plane still practically vibrating. Lovino was clutching his arm, terrified.

"Shit, Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to ease him, but the plane jolted forward again. Lovino squeezed his arm tighter. Antonio could vaguely hear him whispering "oh God oh God oh God."

"You gotta pray," Lovino said breathily, still clawing Antonio's arm for comfort. "Just me isn't enough."

The intercom turned on and they could hear the pilot breathing for a second before, "We are experiencing some turbulence. Please stay in your seats."

"See?" said Antonio. "Turbulence. Not an act of god. You're fine."

"Don't say that, you'll make him angry!" The plane lurched again. Lovino's nails dug into Antonio's skin even through his sweater. He looked down and realized that he was holding onto Antonio.

"G-Get off me!" Lovino cried, seemingly coming to his senses. He shoved Antonio away.

"Wha- you were the one that was clinging to me!"

"Do you smell that? It's the stench of  _lies."_

The plane jolted and Antonio found himself shouting out as well as Lovino. They clutched at each other desperately.

"S-See," said Lovino shakily, but accusingly, "You're scared too."

"Yeah, but-" protested Antonio, his teeth chattering. "But it's  _scary!"_

"So get your act together and f-fucking pray, you beanpole! Or else we die right now!"

"We're not goi-" Antonio started, but the plane gave another jerk upwards and he felt himself being lifted off his seat a couple inches, restrained by the seat belt, and then fell back down onto the chair.

"Okay, fine, I'll pray," he said quickly. "Dear, um, Jesus," he started, feeling stupid.

"You can't just say 'Jesus!' That's impolite! Use more respect or else he gonna kill us right now."

"Dear, uh… Mr. Jesus..?" Antonio corrected. "Is that okay?"

There was a pause. The fact that Lovino was seriously considering this made Antonio smile weakly.

"Yeah. Better," Lovino mumbled.

"Okay… Mr. Jesus, please don't kill us? And fly this plane? So we don't die… and stuff?"

"I'd slap you, but I don't want to get stupid on my hand," Lovino muttered.

"I heard that!" Antonio admonished, but he wasn't angry.

"So you  _can_  hear, dumbfuck."

"I'm not a dumbfuck!"

"You're the dumbfuckiest dumbfuck to have ever dumbfucked, you dumbfuck. If you pulled your head out your ass and maybe looked around, you'd be amazed what you can see."

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Antonio raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Being born, for starters. Now let go of me, creepmonger."

"You were the one-" Antonio said, but Lovino had extricated himself from Antonio and it was only when Lovino tore his hand off his back that he realized he had been holding Lovino tightly as well, instinctively.

"I- sorry.." he mumbled, looking at his hand, confused. By the time he looked up, shaken out of his trance, Lovino was back in his own seat praying. The plane had steadied out and there was no more turbulence. Antonio picked his book up off the floor of the plane and began to read, vaguely hearing the soft hiss of Lovino's whisper-breath as he prayed.

* * *

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the plane landed with a bump. Antonio escorted Lovino, who had a slight case of jelly-legs after the long flight, off the plane. Lovino wordlessly led him through customs and Antonio waited as he met with the immigration officers. They got on a bus and rode for two, maybe three hours. Lovino stared mournfully out the windows, ignoring Antonio as he relentlessly badgered Lovino with questions about the passing scenery.

"What's that? The sign says 'supermercato,' does that mean supermarket? Oh, and that building next to it- there's this symbol- oh wait, no, it's Chinese, sorry, nevermind.."

"Shut up," Lovino grumbled. "You're annoying me worse than my brother."

"I can't help being excited, I've never been to Italy before! And it's not as if you're doing anything anyway."

"Unlike a certain idiot, I am actually capable of thinking with my mouth closed, so yes, I am doing something, and you're interrupting me. So shut up before I castrate you." Lovino closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head against the cold window, his arms crossed.

"Watch yourself, or you'll burst a blood vessel," Antonio mocked.

"Shush," Lovino commanded, lightly smacking Antonio's cheek with the back of his hand.

"As you wish," said Antonio impudently. But he found it hard to keep his mouth shut, with so many interesting sights passing outside his window. As they passed a farm, he recalled an old Marlowe poem he had memorized in high school.

" _Come live with me, and be my love;"_ he recited. " _And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields."_

"The fuck does that mean?" Lovino interrupted.

"It's a poem. 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.'"

"And?"

"And what?"

"Why are you all of a sudden blurting this out?"

"The scenery just.. reminded me of it, I guess. It's about the beauty of the countryside," explained Antonio.

"Sure, whatever," Lovino snorted. "Just keep quiet."

"Don't you want to listen to the rest?" And then, before Lovino could answer, Antonio continued, "Here's some more:

' _And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.'"_

"I have no idea what you're talking about," huffed Lovino, tossing his head angrily, his hair rising up and catching the light before settling back down across his forehead. He impatiently brushed it away from his eyes. Antonio found this whole act mesmerizing and he momentarily forgot the rest of the poem as the image of Lovino, bathed in golden-brown sunset-light, his skin and hair and eyes gleaming in the light, every gorgeous pore illuminated and highlighted to perfection, burned into his retinas.

"What?" Lovino snapped, jarring Antonio out of his reverie.

"Sorry, you just- you look pretty in the light like that," said Antonio before he had even realized; that same contradictory feeling of being tongue-tied yet unable to shut up when he should hitting him just as hard as it had been the first time he walked into the coffee shop and say Lovino- bored, irritated, and so mind-bogglingy beautiful it should be illegal.

"Yeah, well, you- you look nice too," Lovino shot back as if it were an insult, his face red. "I- I mean, nicer than usual, which isn't saying much, since you usually look as if you were spawned from a trash can," he corrected himself.

"Right," Antonio said casually, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

"How- How does the poem end?" Lovino mumbled embarrassedly, his face turned away. His ears were red. "I'm just bored, you know, and that's why I'm asking," he added quickly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be interested."

"Of course." said Antonio lightly. "Let's see, it's… ah, yes. ' _And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle-"_

"What the hell is a  _kirtle_?!"

"It's a type of skirt, I think. Anyway: ' _A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle-_ that's a sort of plant I think," Antonio said quickly, before Lovino could ask. "' _A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;"_

" _A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love."_

" _The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love."_  
"Huh." said Lovino slowly, digesting that information.

"Good, right?"

"A bed of roses would be pretty uncomfortable, as would a hat and skirt made from flowers. And impractical, they would just die and then you'd be naked."

"A good point."

"It's completely inaccurate. Farms aren't that easy."

"Oh, yeah, you lived on a farm, right? One with all the little sheepies and cowsies and horsies?"

"Sheepies?" repeated Lovino sarcastically, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Yeah! When I was little, I always wanted to live on a farm and get up early and ride horses bareback through the wilderness and milk cows and herd sheep and feed chickens and.."

"It wasn't that kind of farm," Lovino said sharply. "No animals."

"Then what kind was it?"

Lovino rested his head against the window, his cheek to the glass. "You'll see," he said eventually, his face turned away from Antonio so he couldn't read his expression.


	18. Unwelcome Return

After two more hours of meandering chatter punctuated by Lovino insulting or swearing periodically at Antonio, he finally gathered the gall to say,

"Where actually are we going?"

"A little ways from of Palma Campania. The vineyards are there, but the bus stops at Palma Campania, so we'll have to walk the extra three miles."

"Wha- three miles?! Are you sure you can do that? I don't think even I can carry you that far."

"Its fine. It's not that cold down here in winter anyway, and I'm used to the trip."

"Really? That's-" Antonio didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, for the driver's voice rang through. It was too fast for Antonio to properly understand, but Lovino stood up and took his duffel bag down from the rack above their seats.

"This is the last stop," he told Antonio.

"Oh- right." They departed the small bus together, Lovino said something to the driver but once again it was too fast for Antonio to hear.

"What did you say to him?" he asked. The small rocks of the gravel road crunched under his feet as he walked.

"I said thanks."

"And how do you say that?"

" _Grazie."_

"Bless you," said Antonio automatically.

"No, idiot- that's how you say thank you."

"Bless you?"

"I feel sorry for your mother, having to live with the fact that she birthed an imbecile."

"I don't get it."

"Of course you don't," grumbled Lovino.

"But.. what is thank you in Italian?"

" _Grazie._ That's it. Not a sneeze."

"Like  _gracias!"_ Antonio realized.

"Yeah. Like  _gracias."_ They continued in silence for a while, stopping occasionally so Lovino could catch his breath, until they reached a small dirt path curving out of the main road. The smell of grapes and sweat permeated the air. As they ambled down it, Lovino in the lead, the smell grew stronger. Finally they reached what seemed to be a sort of clearing, and as Antonio stepped out into it, he felt his jaw drop. At first he thought it must be a graveyard, because all he could see were white pickets. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were indeed pickets, but not for marking spots of the dead's final rest; no, these were for holding up grapes. Coiled around each one were small, practically sproutling vines, and the beginnings of buds of grapes, little spots of purple. Green twine tied the vines loosely to the pickets.

"The processing plant is a couple miles away so the waste doesn't damage the crops," Lovino explained quietly, making Antonio jump in the still silence.

"I- I see."

"I told you it wasn't that kind of farm," Lovino said, his voice barely audible. His cheeks were tinged with embarrassment.

"No, no- it's fine! Really." Antonio managed a weak smile. The word 'farm' had always been synonymous with cute animals and mud and plants to him, and even though he knew there had had to be manufacturing farms for grapes and such products, he hadn't expected Lovino to work on one, let alone be a sharecropper.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's great. Even though there's no sheepies or cowsies or horsies." This time Antonio really did smile. Lovino turned his head, but the corners of his lips tugged upwards and it was visible that he was secretly pleased.

"We live a bit further down. There's housing provided for the workers." Lovino pointed past the hill to their left.

Without any warning, he started to walk forward in the direction he had pointed. Antonio gaped at the spectacle in front of him and then quickly, noticing he was being left behind, jogged ahead to catch up with Lovino. As they walked, Lovino would occasionally point out various things to Antonio: "This is where we grow the white wine grapes;" "The more skin the better the taste, so we grow some of our grapes in harsh conditions so that they are smaller and have more of the skin." It was very interesting, but Antonio couldn't help letting his mind wander briefly, focusing instead on Lovino's hips, his long, lilting gait, his thin legs and straight back.

All of a sudden Lovino stopped in front of a gate and Antonio, unaware, almost bumped into him but caught himself right before.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Lovino replied, but Antonio could see his hands were clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, unclenched and the re-clenched his fists nervously, and then took a step past the gate.

There were infinitely more pickets than there had been before, and at least double that number in men, hunched over and systematically tying baby vines to pickets. Lovino took a couple more steps before a yell was plaintively heard:

"Hey, look, it's Little Vargas!" The hundreds of heads turned up and began to laugh. One of them stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth to make his cheek bulge out, and then placed his hand in a fist at the opposite end of the imaginary bump, moving his head back and forward in a fashion that imitated sucking a dick. Another turned around and bent over, smacking his ass.

"Does this get you off, Little Vargas?" he jeered. Antonio couldn't understand what they were saying, but from their actions and obscene gestures, he was pretty sure he knew.

Fields full of men fell about in laughter, clutching their stomachs and leaning on their friends for support. A few continued their work, giving the men who were teasing Lovino dirty looks, but said nothing.

Lovino kept walking, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white, his face burning red. His movements were hurried and disjointed, as if he were restraining himself, which, Antonio figured, he probably was.

"Who's that with you? Your  _boyfriend?"_ one sneered.

"Faggot!"

"Stay away from my son!"

"Cocksucker!"

One grabbed his crotch, screaming, "You like this? You like this?"

"Hey, Little Vargas," yelled the one who had told everyone else of Lovino's presence, "What are you doing here? I thought even Old-Man Roma didn't want you anymore, just like your mother!"

Lovino stiffened, trembling. Antonio had only recognized the word 'mother,' but that was enough. Lovino rotated around on his heel slowly and started towards them.

"What'cha gonna do, suck my dick?!" the man yelled. Lovino snarled and increased his speed, but Antonio grabbed him before he got close and hauled him away.

"Just don't listen to-" Antonio began to say, but Lovino grabbed Antonio's arm and peeled it off of him.

"Don't fucking touch me!" he screamed. The workers watching made jeering noises, laughing.

"Got a little lover's quarrel there, Little Vargas?" one called, chortling. Lovino's lip curled and he made a move as if he were about to take a step.

"Lovi-" Antonio placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder but he swiveled around and shoved Antonio with more strength than Antonio had expected. Antonio stumbled backwards a couple steps and then fell on his butt. Lovino charged forward until he was practically nose-to-nose with the man who had instigated the whole ordeal.

Antonio scrambled to his feet, hurrying towards Lovino as best he could, hoping he could stop the fight before anyone got hurt. The man muttered something. Lovino replied, and the crowd who had formed a circle around him, preventing him from possibly escaping, began to laugh. The man didn't seem to find his reply so funny and he stood there for a moment, making a peculiar movement with his mouth that Antonio didn't understand until he drew back and spat on Lovino.

It hit him square in the face, between his eyes. Lovino made no move to wipe it off. In fact, he didn't move at all, and Antonio remembered in a flash the moments before he had bitten that kid's dick off.

Lovino hawked, and then spat back at the man. It was bloody, and the crowd drew back, startled.

"The hell…?" The man felt the bloody saliva on his face with his finger, not understanding the crowd's reaction. He held his finger up in front of his face and his eyes went wide.

"Wha- What the fuck is wrong with you?" he choked, fear now clouding over the anger.

Lovino smiled, his lips and teeth coated in red. "AIDS," he said casually.

The man gave a little squeak and Lovino took a step closer.

"That's right," he said. "AIDS." All Antonio caught was the word 'AIDS,' but that was all he needed.

"You know how it's passed?" Lovino continued. The man stared at him, blank faced, trembling a little.

"B-Blood?" he stammered.

"Correct. Blood. Now what's that on your face?"

"I- I-" The man gaped at the little spot of blood on his finger. He managed to take a breath before he fainted. One man from the circle surrounding them rushed forward and caught him, looking reproachfully at Lovino.

"Get the hell out of here," he growled. Lovino shrugged and turned away, loping casually over to Antonio. He was almost to Antonio when a man in a dirty wifebeater that had once been white, with yellow-gray sweat stains under the armpits, hurled a rock at Lovino. It hit him at the back of his head, throwing Lovino off balance. He wobbled for a moment and then fell to the ground.

"Lovino!" Antonio yelled, running towards his limp body. For a minute Antonio worried he was unconscious, but Lovino crawled forward a couple inches and then picked himself up, coughing.

"OhmygodLoviareyouokay-" gasped Antonio, but Lovino cut him off.

"C'mon," he mumbled. "Let's get out of here." He nodded over his shoulder and Antonio saw the horde of people glaring, some cracking their knuckles or picking up rocks, obviously debating the pros and cons of starting another fight with Lovino.

"O-Okay," replied Antonio warily, still a little unsettled. Lovino led him past the field and into another division where some of the workers gave the two of them odd or disapproving looks but said nothing.

"What the hell was that?" panted Antonio, jogging slightly to keep up with Lovino, who was walking as fast as he possibly could without actually running.

"That was the division where I worked," he said, his breath thin as well.

"Why do they…" Antonio was afraid to finish the question, worried he might offend Lovino.

"Hate me so much?" suggested Lovino, smiling wryly and without humor. He took Antonio's silence as his answer.

Lovino shrugged, thankfully slowing down now that they were a while away from the field. Gratefully Antonio halted as well.

"Hell if I know."

Antonio got the feeling Lovino was hiding something from him, but decided that now wasn't the time to pry.

Lovino shook his head, as if to convince himself of something, then hoisted his duffel bag back over his shoulder, one hand on the strap, the other in his pocket.

"Let's go."

Antonio followed.

* * *

They reached a row of squat wooden blocks three stories tall, and it was only when Antonio noticed the tiny, smoky, porthole-like windows embedded in it like many eyes, he realized that each of the buildings were apartment complexes.

"We live in B," said Lovino, walking past the first row. Leaning dangerously out a window on the third floor was a young woman with her hair pulled back in a patterned kerchief, a few wanton curls sprung loose from its folds. She was smoking a cigarette with the air of a sophisticated socialite, and the bright red of her lipstick clashed against her dark skin and tattooed her cigarette. A dirty gray nightshirt sagged dangerously low over her chest, and the neon pink zebra pattern of her bra was vaguely visible. She blew Antonio a kiss when she saw him staring.

"Hurry up," groaned Lovino, his face tinged red with embarrassment.

"Sorry," apologized Antonio, accidentally treading on Lovino's heel in his attempt to catch up to his rapid pace.

"Watch it!" snapped Lovino. They passed another row of apartments. Antonio watched a toddler clamber onto a windowsill, his tongue stuck out in effort, and he turned, panicked, to Lovino.

"That kid-" he pointed up at the windowsill, but just then an old woman, her hair in curlers and such a shade of silver that it looked almost blue, grabbed him and pulled him back, tutting,

" _Femare che_ , Guido."

From inside the apartment, a distant wail could be heard:

" _Voglio essere un uccellino!_  I wanna be a birdie!"

They passed many more interesting sights until Lovino stopped in front of one of the apartment buildings. It was square, squat, stained a dark brown, unremarkable, and completely indistinguishable from the others apart from a large, rusted 'B' hanging over the doorway. The door was open.

Antonio followed Lovino up an incredibly claustrophobic-inducing set of narrow stairs barely wide enough to fit his shoulders. On the third floor landing they stopped.

The accompanying hallway was barely wider and was noticeably dirtier, darker, and mustier than the staircase had been. There were three old-fashioned lights jutting out of the wall, one of which was not functioning, the other two so dim that they did little to improve the lighting of the place. Antonio was amazed Lovino was even able to tell which of the many doors led to his apartment.

Lovino knocked on a door. The noise was hollow and echoed off the thin walls with the peeling wallpaper patterned with faded posies, off the dim lights upon which the corpses of dead insects could be seen gathered around the base where the lightbulb was contained, off the rotting wood doors with the foul odor of decay.

 _"Nonno!"_  he called, knocking more. "Roma! I'm here!"

There was no answer.

"I know you're in there," yelled Lovino in Italian, knocking more fervently.

"Do you think he's alright?" fretted Antonio.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is," grumbled Lovino, although he didn't sound so sure himself. "Just doesn't want to let me in, the old bastard."

He kicked the door lightly.

"Roma!" After a couple seconds of bated breath resulting in only silence, a weak voice was audible through the wood.

"Go away! I told you not to come back!"

"If you don't let me in, I'll break the door down!"

It was quiet for a moment, but then: "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wanna test me?!" Lovino kicked the door again, not hard enough to break it down, but enough to make his point.

 _"Bene, bene,"_  Roma muttered, disgruntled, and then they could hear the clack of the lock being turned.

Lovino swung the door open, only to be faced with darkness. He stepped in.

"Why you got it all dark?" he complained.

"To save electricity."

Lovino groaned and pulled on a chain, lighting the room so that Antonio could now see.

It was much smaller than he had expected. To the left of the room were three doorways, one of which was open, the edge of a dirty toilet exposed to view. The right side of the room was separated by a small counter, oven, and stove, and against the wall opposite the counter was a fridge and a sink, and above them, many cupboards. On the other side of the counter, away from the kitchenette, were three tired couches arranged in a semicircle around a very old television; the sort that was large and square and you could see little lines and squiggles on the screen if you got too close.

"Who's this?" barked Roma, pointing a trembling finger at Antonio. He was weathered and old, very old. His skin seemed to be made entirely of wrinkles and veins and age spots, and he was in a wheelchair, an IV attached to it and his forearm. His feet were bare and his toenails were yellow and cracked and unclipped, so long that they curved around. His beard was white.

Tentatively Antonio stepped into the room. Now that he was in it, he could see more: the crack in the wall, covered with duct tape; the makeshift cardboard shutters for the window, the dirty dishes piled in the sink, many so old that they had mold on them. The room smelled like dust and pee and mold, and for the umpteenth time, Antonio worried about Lovino's lungs.

However, Lovino didn't seem to share that same fear, and was instead fussing over Roma.

"Look at the state of this place! Did you hire that nurse like I told you too? Was the money enough?"

Roma didn't answer, keeping his lips tightly pressed together, his face turned away from Lovino, contorted in a look of disgust.

"You've lost weight- too much weight," fretted Lovino. "And look at your clothes- I told you you should get some new ones, this shirt has still got blood stains on it from that time Feli scraped his knee in Year Three… You did hire the nurse, right?"

"Why'dyou come back?" Roma asked quietly, throwing Lovino off guard.

"I- well- I had to," concluded Lovino lamely.

"My memory's not too good these days, but I remember telling you to not come back. So what're you doing here? And who the hell is he?!"

"His name's Antonio." At the sound of his name, Antonio looked up.

"Yes, I'm Antonio.  _Lieto di vederla."_  he extended his hand for Roma to shake.

Roma looked from Antonio to Lovino and then back again. "Who's this  _finocchio?"_  he barked.

"What's a  _finocchio?"_  Antonio whispered to Lovino, flipping through his Italian phrase book.

"He called you a faggot," explained Lovino through the side of his mouth, a corner of his lips tugged upwards in mockery of Antonio.

"Oh."

Lovino turned back to Roma and they began to talk again, gesticulating immensely. Slightly intimidated, Antonio edged over to the sink, intending to wash the massive pile of moldy, slimy dishes so that Lovino wouldn't get mold in his lungs again, although from all the visible dry rot and cracks and water damage, it probably wouldn't do much change.

He turned the faucet. There was a rumble, but no water came out. He turned the nob further to the right. There was a splutter, and thick brown water shot out of the faucet at such high pressure it might as well have been a sprinkler, wetting Antonio's shirt with specks of dirty liquid.

Lovino and Roma looked up from their conversation.

"The fuck you doing?" Lovino yelled. Someone in the flat next to them banged on the wall and yelled something that was most likely 'shut up.'

"W-Washing the dishes," Antonio croaked nervously. The sink gave another clanging noise and Lovino's eyes flitted away from Antonio for a moment to the sink and then back again.

"What'dyou do to it?" he asked.

"Nothing, it just- was like this.."

Lovino groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Turn it off," he commanded, marching over to the sink and opening up the cabinet underneath it. He threw aside the scattered sponges and soaps and grabbed a flashlight and a toolbox. He crouched down and stuck his head and shoulders into the cupboard, his butt sticking out. He fiddled around under there for a moment while Antonio enjoyed the view.

Roma said something and Lovino withdrew himself from the cabinet.

"Were you looking at my ass?" he accused Antonio.

"Wha- me? No!"

Lovino turned to Roma and asked something in Italian. Roma replied.

"He says you were looking at my ass," Lovino snarled.

"He must be, uh, mistaken," appeased Antonio, giving a small pleading smile towards the old man. Roma made an obscene gesture. Antonio's smile fell.

He heard several clunks and bangs, and then Lovino pulled himself out of the cabinet.

"Try the sink now," he panted, hot and sweaty from being inside the cabinet. He wiped his hair off his forehead, but several strands still stuck to his skin, dark and wet.

Antonio turned the faucet. There were a couple splutters, and then it started working, brown at first but then it thinned out into clear water that he could only hope was sanitary.

"Nice job," Antonio attempted to compliment Lovino, but he just waved him off, going back to Roma.

As if there had been no interruption, the two of them continued their argument. Every now and then, as he scrubbed at the dishes, Antonio picked up some words: the ever-present  _finocchio_ , in addition to  _nonno, soldi, la salute,_  and  _infermiera,_  nurse.

 _"Fidanzato?!"_  Roma accused, directing a shaking hand towards Antonio.

"No, no. Just a friend."

Antonio finished washing the dishes and laid them on a rack to dry. He wiped his hands on his shirt and headed over to the two of them, still bickering. As he approached, they both grew quiet and looked at him silently, alienating him. They didn't resume their conversation until Antonio had held his hands up in a surrendering pose and backed away, as if they were worried he would overhear even though he could barely understand what they were saying.

Antonio seated himself on one of the couches. They were all mismatched and of varying sizes and dilapidation. The one he was on was a dark green scratchy fabric, and as he sat down he practically fell into it, it was so squashy. The rest of the couch underneath him curved in a concave fashion as it gave way to his weight. Under his right hand several pieces of duct tape were placed over a rip in the cushion. In other areas, little cotton balls of stuffing poked up from tears in the fabric. Antonio pulled his phrasebook out of his pocket and flipped to a random page.

It struck him after a couple minutes of skimming the page that it had become strangely quiet. In fact, Roma's was the only voice in the room.

"How's Feliciano?" he asked.

"Fine," Lovino replied, his eyes slanting away.

"Is his art going well? Does he like America?" Lovino nodded. "Good," said Roma, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes satisfactorily.

"He got a girlfriend yet?"

"Y-Yeah. A German girl." Antonio understood what they were saying and perked up, listening.

"German, eh?" Lovino nodded again. "With the big tits and everything?" Roma made a motion in front of his chest as if grabbing a breast.

Roma whistled, a smile spreading across his white lips. "I always liked them German girls. He's done good for himself, Feliciano." He opened his eyes and stared intently at Lovino, the smile gone.

"Maybe if you just-" he began to say, but Lovino bit his lip, steeling himself, and grabbed Antonio's hand, hauling him to his feet. Antonio dropped his book.

"Hey-" he began to say, but Lovino just pulled Antonio to the door. Before he knew what he was doing there, Lovino had slammed the door and started down the stairs. Halfway down he looked over his shoulder at Antonio.

"Come on," he said, jerking his head towards the end of the stairwell. Reluctantly Antonio followed.

"What was that?" he asked as he neared Lovino's silhouetted form.

"Nothing," replied Lovino bitterly. "Let's just go." Antonio stood there a moment, dumbstruck.

"Come on!" Lovino insisted, pulling Antonio's arm forcefully, causing him to trip a few steps. Righting himself, he turned around to face Lovino.

"Seriously," said Antonio. "What did he say to you?"

Lovino barged past Antonio, knocking him against the wall, and down the stairs. Antonio heard the sound of the door slamming. He stood there for a moment, watching the dust motes collect in the air. Finally he managed to pull himself away from the wall and run down the stairs after Lovino.

The fresh cool air on Antonio's face was a relief from the cramped, heated atmosphere of the staircase and subsequent apartment, but as he blinked, his eyes stung by the natural light, he couldn't see Lovino anywhere.

"Lovi?" he called, a hand to his mouth. There was no response. He wandered aimlessly around the grounds, yelling Lovino's name occasionally, but nothing happened. Disenchanted, he leaned against a tree and crossed his arms, wondering where else he could be.

As he was deep in thought, a pair of feet kicked him in the forehead. Antonio yelped in surprise and pain, and the pair of feet did too. There was a rustling of leaves and then a thin figure fell out of the tree and onto Antonio, bringing them both to the ground.

"What the-" Antonio and the person said at the same time. Recognizing the voice, Antonio hesitantly opened one eye, and then the other, only to see Lovino's face inches away from his own.

"What are you doing here?" they said together.

"I was looking for you. What are you doing here?" said Antonio. He was slightly distracted by the fact that Lovino's face was barely four inches from his own, that his skin, silhouetted by the evening light seemed to glow, that his hair was falling down around his face, shaping and softening it, that his lips were a delicate pink like the inside of a shell and full and parted slightly, that his eyes were like pools of green-brown that Antonio could feel himself start to drown in…

"I was…" Lovino searched for the right word. He could feel his face heat up and redden under Antonio's inspective gaze, but even though he willed it to, his body wouldn't move, rooted to the spot right above Antonio… Every imperfection made Antonio's face just seem all the more perfect. The corners of his mouth were slightly curved upwards, remnants of his permanent smile; his eyes were a brilliant green, contrasting against his dark skin. As Lovino noticed all this and more, he saw that there was a stray eyelash on Antonio's right cheek.

"Lovino?"

"I-" Lovino stammered, urging himself to say something, anything, but he was tongue-tied and could only look helplessly at that one goddamn fucking eyelash…  _god,_  he wanted to brush it off, it was annoying the shit out of him, but if he did, Antonio could mistake that gesture for something else…

 _Well, what would be so bad if he did?_  one part of his brain said, the part that still loved Antonio, despite all the mental locks he had set for himself, barring himself from merely thinking about Antonio, about how gorgeous he looked in the sun, a slight sheen of sweat making his skin glisten; the way he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so that they bunched there and exposed his godly forearms oh holy  _fuck;_ that special expression he reserved only for Lovino...

_No. No. **No!**_

Lovino shook his head frantically.

"Is… is there something on my face?" Antonio lifted an arm and tapped his nose with it.

"Um. Yeah. Other side," mumbled Lovino.

"Here?"

_Wrong cheek._

"No- here.." Lovino gently took Antonio's hand, feeling something inside his chest twist, and moved it to his right cheek. It was a moment before Lovino remembered to take his hand off of Antonio's.

"Thanks." He brushed it away impatiently. "Uh, would you mind getting off?"

"Wha-" Lovino began indignantly, but then he looked down and realized that he was indeed on top of Antonio.

"You-" his face flooded with color as he drew back his wrist and slapped Antonio across the face, jumping off of him.

"You creep!" he spat.

"Huh? I'm the creep?! You were the one on top of me!"

"No I wasn't!"

"You totally were!"

"I was not!" harrumphed Lovino, crossing his arms and tossing his head angrily.

"Okay, fine, fine, whatever," Antonio groaned, knowing that there was no point in arguing, even though he knew he was right.

"But.." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "What were you doing up there?"

"Contemplating the meaning of life."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"No! How stupid can you get?"

"Uh.. I don't know, how can you?"

"Very, apparently," Lovino grimaced. "What were you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"Under a tree?"

"I was right though, wasn't I?"

Lovino tsked, unwilling to admit that Antonio was correct.

"So?" prodded Antonio.

"So it's none of your business."

"Were you upset?"

"N-No!"

"Ah, so you were."

"I said I wasn't, you jerk!"

"What were you upset about?"

"I'm not fucking upset!"

"Then why'd you run off?"

"Because.." Lovino let the words swill around in his mouth. "I was pissed off."

"Okay, why were you pissed off then?"

Lovino chewed his lip, trying to decide whether or not to confess. "He- Roma, I mean- well, he always- this is going to sound bad, but-"

"Just say it."

"He.. he… he never once asked me any- any thing about m-myself, just if I was c-c-cured yet!"

"Lovi.." Antonio rested a hand on Lovino's knee, but he smacked it away impatiently.

"Not even one question- just a 'how are you' or something would have been nice- all he cares is if I'm-" Lovino struck the ground with his fist. "And then he just- just asks about Feliciano! Nothing about me- just if he's doing well, how his art is going, if- if he's gotten a girlfriend yet…"

Antonio didn't know what to say and instead rubbed Lovino's back encouragingly.

"I'm so fucking tired of lying for Feli- I mean, he didn't for me! And sometimes I think, yeah, I'm gonna do it, he should- should- hell, I don't know, but- I worry that even if Roma knew, it would still be the- the same! That I'll be the b-b-bad one and he-" Lovino broke off.

"I'm sure he… well, he's probably just confused. By you and what you are- I mean, lots of people don't understand. They think it's… disgusting, or perverse, or simply.. wrong, but that doesn't mean it necessarily is."

"Yeah? How would you know? Do you find me disgusting too?" Lovino spat.

"I know because I've been in the same situation as you," Antonio said quietly. Lovino looked up at him quickly, an expression of disbelief and surprise visible.

"R-Really? You're… like me?"

"Sort of." Antonio gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. It wasn't meant to be humorous. "I'm bi."

"Hello?" Lovino's brow furrowed.

"No, no," laughed Antonio, for real now. "It stands for bisexual."

"Bi… sexual? What's that?"

"It's when you are attracted to people of both genders. Like, you like boys and girls." Antonio explained.

"That's a thing? You can do that?"

"Sure I can."

Lovino milled over this for a moment, doodling spiral patterns in the dirt beneath them with his index finger. He made a mistake and tsk'ed, rubbing it out and starting over.

"You said- you've been in my situation before… did you get kicked out, too?" Lovino said, blushing slightly with embarrassment for asking such a personal question.

"No, my parents were mostly fine with it." Antonio leaned back against the tree and stretched. "But I had some problems in high school."

"Really?" Lovino asked quickly, almost excitedly, and then flushed darker. "Sorry. I mean. Not sorry. Because I don't- I don't care."

Antonio laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh from the pit of his stomach that flew out his mouth, whistling through his teeth like a flock of birds. It gathered in the air and Lovino felt something inside him lift, like someone had removed a weight from his belly.

Antonio reached over and ruffled Lovino's hair affectionately. "Don't you ever change," he laughed.

"What the- gerroff!" Lovino snarled, but he couldn't suppress a giggle too.

"But seriously," Antonio continued, a definite graveness that hadn't been there a moment ago present in his voice. He let his hand slip off of Lovino's head and it fell, wooden, to the dirt. Lovino almost wished it had lingered just a minute longer.

"It.." he shook his head, a confused dog exiting water. "It was awful. I don't really have any words for it, but I get the feeling I don't need them." He looked up and straight into Lovino's eyes, and then through them, into Lovino himself… Lovino couldn't, with all his strength, pull away. Just with this simple contact, he could feel his heart begin to speed up so much it almost hurt. The back of his throat went dry. He could feel himself shaking, Antonio's gaze was so intense, and so… sad, so old, like Lovino had never seen before. Antonio was never without a smile or a bad joke, and seeing him so honest, so raw… for some reason, it made Lovino happy, almost, that it was he who was seeing this, him and not Emma; yes, it was to he whom Antonio was entrusting his truest self.

"You- you know, right?" Antonio whispered, his voice but a hiss and yet so loud, deafening, almost.

"Yeah." The words stuck in Lovino's throat. He shifted his hand a little to the left, laying it gently on top of Antonio's without breaking eye contact.

Antonio drew a sharp breath. He looked down at their hands, joined together, and quickly pulled his out from under Lovino's, holding it to his chest and looking away. He stood up suddenly, turned away so Lovino couldn't see his expression. Lovino, stunned, just looked at him, his movements still sluggish, his heartbeat still rapid.

"We should go back," Antonio said sharply. "It's getting late."

Lovino was about to protest that it wasn't that late, it was only seven-thirty, but the harsh tone of Antonio's voice jerked him into alertness and obedience. He got up. Antonio was already several paces ahead, striding towards the apartment swiftly. Lovino followed.

 _Emma and only Emma,_  chanted Antonio under his breath, where Lovino couldn't hear.

_Emma and only Emma._


	19. Folk Medicine Always Works

"Roma?" Lovino rapped the door with the back of his hand. He was still breathing heavily just from the short trip up the stairs. "We're coming in." He glanced at Antonio, who was still nonchalantly avoiding even admitting that Lovino was there.

When he got no response, Lovino swung the door open again.

"You turned the light off again!" he complained, switching it back on. "Why do you keep doing that?!"

"Electricity costs money." Roma's grave voice resounded against the thin walls, making it seem much larger than it actually was.

"Yeah, well, I sent you money."

"You did? I didn't get any money."

"You… what…?" Lovino blanched, swaying slightly. He clutched the doorway for support. "You didn't get my- my-"

He staggered and then fell backwards limply, and taken by surprise, Antonio caught him in his arms. He looked at Lovino's pale face, lolling sickly. His eyes rolled back in his head. He had passed out.

Quickly Antonio dragged Lovino into the room, laying him gently on the floor. He closed the door. He could vaguely hear Roma yelling in Italian, but had no clue what he was actually saying.

Through the indiscernible shouts, Antonio caught the words 'what' and 'do.' It was a moment before he realized that Roma was actually asking  _him_ what to do.

"Uh.. hold his feet up," Antonio said. Roma's face morphed into one of confusion. "Feet," said Antonio disjointedly, pointing to his feet. "Up." He pointed to the ceiling.

Roma leaned back in his wheelchair and lifted his skinny legs.

"No, no- Lovino's feet. Up." he pointed at the ceiling again. Roma still didn't understand, and Antonio crawled over on his hands and knees and lifted Lovino's legs up. Roma nodded and held his ankles. It was a trick Antonio had learned from his mother, to get the blood back to the brain. He wasn't sure if it actually worked, but it was better than nothing.

Antonio patted Lovino's cheek, attempting to wake him. He held his ear to Lovino's mouth and heard that he was still breathing, which was good. He patted Lovino's cheek harder. He still didn't wake.

Antonio heard a loud thud and looked up, only to see that Roma had dropped Lovino's legs and wheeled away.

"Hey!" Antonio called after him, but within a few seconds Roma reappeared, holding a bottle of wine. He uncorked it and held the rim of the bottle under Lovino's nose.

Lovino inhaled loudly. His eyes shot open and he jolted awake. Roma handed him the bottle.

" _Grazie,"_ said Lovino gratefully, and lifted it to his mouth.

"No- wait! That's not-!" Antonio protested, reaching out to take the bottle away, but Roma frowned at him disapprovingly and smacked him away.

Lovino chugged wine as Roma nodded approvingly. Antonio could hear his loud, wet gulps as he tilted the bottle further and further upwards to get more.

Antonio watched helplessly, fidgeting, aching to take the bottle away but knowing he would probably get kicked out if he did. Finally, Lovino pulled away, exhaling slowly.

"Better?" asked Roma.

"Better."

"You- you really shouldn't drink-" interjected Antonio, but Lovino just stared at him as if he had said the earth was flat.

"What're you talking about? Wine's the best medicine there is!" He looked over at Roma. "Right,  _nonno?"_

" _Alla buona derrata._ The good stuff," agreed Roma.

"Don't you want some?" Lovino held the bottle out by the neck towards Antonio. "'S good."

"I'll pass," said Antonio hastily.

Lovino shrugged. "More for me." He lifted the bottle to his lips once more but Antonio grabbed it from him.

"Why don't we… put the wine away?" he suggested mildly.

"Why would we do that?" laughed Lovino.

"Because- because-" protested Antonio uselessly.

"I suppose we should save it.." Lovino contemplated.

"Yes!" Antonio agreed fervently. "Yes- save it for later." Eagerly he took the bottle from Lovino and got up, placing it on the counter by the sink where Lovino couldn't reach it from his position. When he got back, Lovino and Roma were conversing.

"So you didn't get my money?!"

"What money?"

"The checks, in the blue envelopes- didn't you get them?" Lovino looked as if he were either about to burst into tears or punch a wall. Antonio still didn't know what was going on, or what had even caused Lovino to become so panicked he blacked out, and flipped through his phrasebook frantically.

"Oh, those? Yeah, I got those. I thought you meant  _money_ money, like cash."

"You- don't fucking scare me like that! I can't believe-" Lovino broke off, coughing.

Antonio hurried to Lovino sitting on the floor, crouching down beside him. "Don't stress yourself! You know what the doctor said-"

"What's wrong with him?! What's wrong with my grandson?!" Roma interrupted. His chin trembled. In that moment, he looked so weak, so afraid, that Antonio could tell that, despite his actions, he really did love Lovino.

"He's sick," explained Antonio, as Lovino slumped against Antonio weakly, falling back into his chest, still coughing. "Uh…  _malato. Molto malato."_

" _M- Malato..?"_ Roma leaned back in his wheelchair, clutching the arm rests. He looked as if he were about to faint.

"I'm f-fine,  _nonno-"_ Lovino choked, a hand over his mouth. "Really, I-" He gave a particularly bad cough that racked his whole body, loud and wet. It sounded like the ripping of paper or cloth, and several droplets of blood fell onto his hand and the floor.

" _Dio mio!_ My god!" Roma crossed himself fearfully, his hand quaking. His eyes went wide and he seemed to realize something.

"AIDS! You give my grandson AIDS!" He pointed at Antonio, his veined, spotted finger shaking.

"No, no." Antonio shook his head. "No AIDS."

Thankfully upon this statement, Roma seemed slightly assuaged, although everytime Antonio looked at him, he could see the old man's blue eyes staring right through him in a hostile manner, and he knew that no matter what he did, he would always be an outsider to him.

Lovino's coughing subsided enough that he could speak.

"I'm fine," Lovino reassured Roma, his voice husky from the coughing. "It's nothing. I'm just a little-" he held his forefinger and thumb millimetres apart to show how minimal of a problem it was, "Sick." He coughed into his hand again.

"But-" Roma's beard trembled.

"Really, I-" Lovino couldn't stop coughing.

"Maybe you should calm down a bit," Antonio murmured, laying a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "You're still sick, and it's been a long day."

"Okay, fine, got it," Lovino gasped, clutching his chest.

"Does it hurt?! I think I brought painkillers- actually, wait, they said not to use them until you gained more weight- would a cold rag be fine? Do you have ice? I-"

" _You_ need to calm down!" hacked Lovino.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Roma interrupted, looking from Antonio to Lovino and back again.

"Yeah- fine-" Still doubled over, Lovino held up his arm, giving his grandfather a thumbs up. Roma did not seem very reassured.

Antonio glanced at the moldy, water-stained ceiling doubtfully. Lovino was doing a lot worse than usual today; probably a combination of overexertion from their three-mile journey to the farm and before that the trek through the snow, in addition to the damp, musty conditions of the apartment.

Finally Lovino quieted.

"Why don't we get off the floor?" suggested Antonio. Lovino looked down at the plastic tile beneath them, the sort that isn't really tile at all, just a vinyl pattern that comes in a big roll that you can stick to the ground, as if he had forgotten where they were. He nodded and Antonio helped him up.

Lovino stumbled a bit, walking towards the couch, his legs crossing in front of the other at a steep angle. He wobbled and then fell back once more. Antonio rushed forward and caught him, pulling Lovino's arm over his shoulder for support and helping him to the couches.

He sank into the weathered green one gratefully. Roma wheeled himself over as well, the wheels making a ghostly screeching sound. Antonio himself perched on the arm of the green chair Lovino was currently occupying, sneaking sideways glances at him every couple of seconds to make sure he was alright.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Lovino mumbled, leaning his head back against the couch.

"Horseshit. You think I'm blind just because I'm old? Even I can see there's something wrong."

"It's just a cold."

"What kind of cold makes you cough up blood?!" Roma's hands gripped the arms of his wheelchair.

"It's not your problem, so don't worry about it!"

"How can I help but worry? You're my fucking grandson!"

"Yeah?" Lovino lifted his head slightly. "Then why'd you kick me out?"

"B- Because it's for your own good!" Roma stammered. "You've got to absolve yourself of all sin if you want to reach Heave-"

"Yeah, and I almost went to Heaven prematurely because of you!" Lovino lay his head back down. "Or Hell, I guess," he added as an afterthought.

"Wha- you-"

"What's going on?" Antonio whispered, but Lovino ignored him.

"I gave all my money to you-" Lovino broke off to cough, but then continued as smoothly and angrily as he had as if there had been no pause at all,

"-even though you kicked me out. You  _betrayed_  me, and I still-" he started coughing again, heavier than before. He coughed into one hand, the other clutching his chest.

"Lovi- you've got to calm down- take deep breaths, okay? Can you breathe? Is that a yes? No? Nod once for yes-"

"Shut  _up,_ Anto-" Lovino wheezed, struggling for air.

"Do you need the respirator? Or should I just take you directly to the hospital? Is there a hospital-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm-" Lovino took a deep breath, stabilizing himself. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because I can-"

"Shush." Lovino cut off Antonio, turning back to his grandfather. "I still gave you everything-  _everything-_ and you want more? You want to know  _why_ I'm like this? Ask yourself!" Lovino finished, breathing heavily. He relaxed into the couch, closing his eyes and resting his head.

Roma's mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't seem to be able to form words.

Looking back and forth between the two of them, Antonio hastily suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Why don't we make dinner?"

"Yeah. Dinner." Lovino formed the words slowly, rising to his feet shakily. He stared at Roma for a second longer before turning and walking briskly around the partition to the kitchen.

"A-Are you okay to stand?" Antonio trotted behind Lovino worriedly.

Lovino ignored him and pulled a dirty apron off a hook. He swung it over his neck. It was pink and there were frills around the shoulders and edging the fabric, but strangely Lovino didn't seem fazed by it, as if it were perfectly normal for a grown man to put on a pink lacy apron. Looking over his shoulder, he said to Antonio behind him,

"Can you tie it for me?"

"Sure." Antonio hid his amusement and took the two strings in his fingers, looking at them before placing them criss-cross around Lovino's back. His fingers felt too thick and clumsy as he tied them;  _make a bunny ear, then around the ear and through the hole, pull tight;_ his mother's voice rang in his head.

"Hurry up," Lovino commanded.

"Sorry." Antonio finished tying it and stepped back. "Is that okay?"

"Too loose," Lovino complained. "Do it again, tighter."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry." Antonio pulled one string and the knot collapsed. He held the two strings in his hands, pulling.

"Is this..?"

"Tighter."

"How about now?"

"Still too loose."

" _Now?"_

"Better." Antonio tied it once more, fumbling with the tiny strings. His knuckles brushed against Lovino's back and he heard him take a sharp breath.

He pulled the two loops taught and knotted them, then stepped back.

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah." Lovino turned around. "Thanks." And then, to Antonio's surprise and delight, he smiled slightly, reached up, and patted Antonio on the head twice like a dog.

"See, you're not as useless as you look," he said, straining his arm up high to reach the top of Antonio's mess of hair.

Antonio beamed, the happiest he had been all day in that moment; that blessed moment where Lovino's thin fingers ruffled his hair, tickling his scalp, in the way Antonio had often imagined alone late at night; that blessed, god-given moment where he could smell Lovino, and see the glint of his teeth as he smiled slightly, almost nervously, as if he were embarrassed by the fact that he was smiling but he just couldn't stop.

Lovino rose slightly on his toes to better reach Antonio's head. His calf wobbled, and then he started to fall. He righted himself before he toppled over completely, but late enough that Antonio had automatically placed his hands around Lovino's waist to steady him.

"Oh- uh… sorry." Antonio quickly removed his hands. His face burning, he looked down, waiting for some sort of beratement from Lovino, but there was none. He looked up, just to see Lovino nonchalantly bending over, one hand on his knee, to open the fridge.

* * *

His heart pounding in his ears, Lovino reached into the cool depths of the fridge. The coldness felt good on his skin and he stuck his head in, grimacing as the bad smell struck his face. He could still feel the heat radiating from him, a mixture of embarrassment and... something else; something that had no name but still was as familiar as an old friend, that had lurked in him since the moment when he held out his hand to help Antonio up after tripping on ice and realized that he couldn't seem to pull away. He hated how used he had become to this feeling, how he even almost welcomed it when it came to him in the dark of night, weaving its way into his mind so deep by the time he had noticed it was there it was too late.

* * *

The fridge was boxy, and a faded yellow,  _De Rigo Refrigeration: 1972 Model_ written in metal writing to the top left, below the rounded corners. The light inside flickered. Lovino rummaged around, but there wasn't much in there to look through. His head still inside the fridge, Lovino pulled out various items: butter, olive oil, mushrooms and a half loaf of bread. Finally he extricated himself, his face still a little pink, holding what appeared to be a beach ball with legs.

"What is tha-  _ohmygod-"_

"What? It's just a chicken." Lovino was holding it by the neck, its scrawny beak lolling over his fingers, the feet hanging limply down, swinging when he moved. It was plucked, and round, and bumpy.

"But it's… it's dead!"

"Course it is, it'd be weird if we had a live chicken in the fridge." Lovino dropped it on the counter and pulled a knife out of an adjacent rack. In one move, before Antonio knew what was happening, he had brought the blade down and cut the chicken's head clean off. The knife made a  _thwack_ noise as it hit the counter and Antonio flinched, his eyes closing and arms raising in self-defense automatically.

"Jesus, it's just a chicken," scolded Lovino. Antonio peeked through his fingers only to see Lovino slicing it's cold body open. He quickly covered his eyes again, backing up against the second counter.

"D-Do you have to cut it- isn't there a more humane way to do this..?"

"Fucking hell, Antonio, it's dead already!" Lovino whirled around, still holding the bloody knife in one hand. Antonio gulped and backed up against the wall.

"Okay, okay, got it! Just don't.."

"Don't what?" Lovino's other hand landed on his hip. In the frilly apron, he looked like an angry mother.

"Just don't… stab me please?" Antonio attempted a smile, holding his hands up defensively.

"Go." Stony-faced, Lovino pointed with the knife to the left, out of the kitchenette. Antonio flinched as the knife sliced the air.

He fled. As he did so, he briefly head Lovino mutter,

"Honestly."

Antonio retreated to the green couch. Roma was still sitting, staring blankly, his jaw slack.

"Hi again," he said. When he received no response, he tried again: " _C-Ciao?"_

Roma jerked awake. He nodded briefly at Antonio and then continued staring at the wall. Antonio looked over his shoulder to see if there was anything so interesting there, but there was just a crack in the plaster. Slightly perturbed, he sat down, pulling out his phrase book and leafing through it once more in an attempt to relieve some boredom.

It didn't.

Impatient, Antonio got up and walked around the partition once more.

"Do you need hel-  _hoooly fuck-"_

Without looking up from the chicken he was gutting, Lovino replied, "No, I'm okay. You wouldn't be much help anyways."

"Oh. Th- thanks." Antonio covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to puke as he turned away. "Um. Where's the bathroom?"

"That door. No, not that one-  _that_ one." directed Lovino. Antonio nodded his thanks, stepping into the room and pulling the light switch. Two cockroaches scuttled out of sight into the dark corners where the yellow light didn't reach. Behind the toilet paper rack, there was stack of magazines. Curious, Antonio pulled one off the pile.

It was an old  _Playboy_ from 1986. Antonio felt like a middle schooler as he began to giggle uncontrollably, even though it wasn't that funny. It was rather old, but as he flipped through it, a little embarrassed, the pictures were still vividly colored. Even if there hadn't been a date on the cover, he would have known it was from the eighties from the big, bushy, permed hair and dark eyeshadow up to the eyebrows, augmented with large, bug-like glasses. It was so strange and otherworldly that it wasn't even erotic, this porn from another era.

Still chuckling a bit, Antonio placed the magazine back down on the stack.

"You've got an interesting… collection in there," he called, walking out, wiping his wet hands on his pants.

Lovino groaned. "I know, I keep telling Roma to throw them away. It's embarrassing."

"Those are his?"

"Who's else would they be?"

"Yours?"

"Me?!" Lovino scoffed. "I wasn't even alive in the eighties."

"I guess not." Antonio pondered that for a second, staying behind the partition so he didn't have to see what Lovino was doing.

"But really? Roma's? He's like… ninety," said Antonio.

"Eighty-seven," Lovino corrected immediately. "And yeah. It's disgusting. You wouldn't believe how much he spends on Viagra."

"Oh  _god_. I did not need to know that."

From the other side of the partition, Lovino cackled. "And now you'll never forget."

"It'll haunt me in my dreams," agreed Antonio. He heard Lovino laugh among the sound of sizzling and crackling cooking, and began to laugh himself; it was infectious. They laughed together, and even though Lovino was behind him, he could still see clearly in his mind his smiling face, erupting with joy. His arms felt empty, and he hugged himself to try to get rid of the feeling that there was something he was missing, and that that something was not a something but a some _one,_ with short brown hair and a perpetual frown, who was just a couple feet away from him on the other side of the partition…

And hugging himself, Antonio could almost imagine it into reality, how Lovino's body would fit against his; the perfect height so that Lovino's pointy chin could rest on his shoulder… and he'd have to stand on tiptoe, wouldn't he, if they were to kiss, how cute… he could practically see it if he closed his eyes… he did so, and the warm feeling inside his chest dwindled and disappeared completely as, in his mind's eye, he saw instead Emma's crying face.

His eyes shot open, but there was nothing there. Still shaken, he took a step backwards and bumped against the partition. It wobbled slightly and he righted it. Lovino was still giggling when he noticed that he was alone in that act.

"Antonio?" he called.

"Y-Yeah?" Antonio gulped, his throat dry.

"You okay?"

"Wha- me? Yeah, of course! Why?" Antonio tried to sound as innocent and unaware as possible.

"I- I don't know, it's just… you weren't laughing, and, well, you always laugh… I don't know. Sorry." Lovino sounded confused and disoriented. "Never mind. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

Lovino was silent amongst the sounds of cooking.

"Everything okay in there?" Antonio called, worrying that Lovino's illness had gotten the better of him yet again.

"Of course! Jesus, just because I'm not always incessantly babbling like my idiot brother doesn't mean I've suddenly dropped dead!"

"Okay, okay, got it," Antonio laughed. "But you shouldn't call your brother an idiot."

"Why the hell not? He's my younger brother, that's what they're for," scoffed Lovino.

"Yeah, but… it's not nice. And he's not an idiot, he's…" Antonio searched for the word. "He's a genius."

"Once he swallowed a lightning bug because he wanted to glow in the dark and got sick all over the bed."

"But did it glow? That's the real question," chuckled Antonio.

"No. It smelt disgusting, and I had to clean it up. Real genius, my brother," said Lovino sarcastically.

"You can't deny his art is amazing, though. He, like, takes art techniques from the Italian Renaissance and applies them to modern imagery and themes- no one's ever done that before. He really is a genius, art-wise."

Lovino  _tsk_ ed. Antonio wondered what sort of expression his face was bearing at the moment. Was he angry? Annoyed? Sad?

"You're really lucky to have a brother like Feliciano," Antonio said, trying to lift Lovino's opinion of his brother. "He's smart, and funny, and creative- those are all good qualities, aren't they? I'd love to have him as a brother."

"I bet you would," said Lovino, his voice low.

"I would!" Antonio said, completely missing Lovino's tone. "You must be really proud of him."

"All of Italy's proud of him."

"See? That's one good thing! And he's cute, too-"

There was a thud as Lovino dropped something, causing Antonio to end prematurely.

"Are you okay?" Antonio called.

"Y-Yeah. Fine," replied Lovino hesitantly. He picked up the cooking spoon slowly, clumsily, looking at it in his hands. He wanted to stab something.

He forced himself to return to his cooking, not wanting the chicken to burn.

_And he's cute, too._

_What about me?_ Lovino wanted to ask.  _Wasn't I always the one you called 'cute?'_

Instead, he said casually, "How d'you want your chicken done?"

"I thought there was only one way to cook chi-"

"Wrong. There's three. Raw, good, and burnt. Which do you want?"

"Good, naturally..."

"Then shut up about my brother if you don't want either ashes or salmonella on your plate."

Antonio shut up.

 


	20. Am Not I My Brother's Keeper?

"I's really g'ud!" Antonio enthused between mouthfuls, his cheeks bulging with food. Lovino sniffed contemptuously, already finished with his food. Roma sopped up the remaining sauce from the chicken marsala with a piece of bread, little brown bits sticking to his beard.

Lovino stood up, his chair scraping away from him. Silently, he took his and Roma's empty plates to the sink and dumped them in, turning on the water. Antonio got the impression that he was mad at him, but he wasn't sure what exactly he had done. Determined to right himself, Antonio scarfed down the rest of his food and hurried to the sink as well, still chewing.

"I'll dry," he said, pulling a rag off of a rack. Lovino grunted in response, up to his elbows in soapy water.

"So.. how are you?" Antonio asked awkwardly, taking a wet, still-sudsy plate from the stack beside Lovino. He grunted again.

"Is there… anything you want to talk about? Something that's bugging you?"

Another grunt.

"If you bottle it all up, you'll just feel worse-"

"I do it all the time and I'm fine."

"You almost died because you couldn't seem to tell me that you didn't have a place to stay!"

Lovino  _tsk_ ed, biting his lip angrily as if withholding some angry exclamation.

"I'm here to help," Antonio persuaded. "That's why I came all this way."

"Yeah, well, you're not." Lovino snapped.

"Then  _tell_ me, so I can!"

Lovino didn't respond, scrubbing ferociously at the pan. He rinsed it and then dumped it in front of Antonio.

"That's the last of the dishes. You finish drying." He stalked off into his room, slamming the door behind him. Antonio vaguely heard the lock click.

Sighing, he wiped the pan with his ragcloth.

* * *

Lovino threw himself down on his mattress. It bounced slightly under his weight, then settled. His old blanket was still folded at the foot of his mattress, a layer of dust sticking to the worn fabric. He pulled it over and around, wrapping himself in the familiar, musty scent. He frowned. His feet were still cold.

Straining his neck, Lovino peered up over the folds of cloth, to see his toes poking out from the blanket. He had grown so it no longer covered all of him, it seemed. Lovino sighed and pulled his knees to his chest, rubbing his arms to warm up and drawing the blanket closer to him. Rubbing a corner between his finger and thumb, he brought it to his nose and sniffed it. It smelled the same as ever, of dust and childhood and dirt. The faint smell of urine, covered by bleach, was still there from the times when he would wet his bed.

The memories were still vivid: Waking up in the night to that awful, familiar smell and wetness, scrubbing the sheets fervently by the yellow light from that single lightbulb, hoping the sound of running water didn't wake up Roma or even worse, Feliciano, but it always would and always did. And around two a.m., Roma would always come charging into the bathroom in his ridiculous nightgown, swearing and inquiring loudly, angrily, as to who had interrupted his sleep  _again._

"You're ten, Lovi," he'd scold, while helping to clean up the mess. "This shouldn't be happening at your age. You're supposed to have outgrown it by now! If Feliciano did it… well, it'd still be kind of strange, but at least it's more acceptable! Why do you always..?"

"I don't know, Nonno, I don't-" Younger Lovino would wail, sniffing.

"Well, you've got to stop! How are you going to make friends if you smell like piss?!"

Lovino smiled faintly, breathing a tiny laugh. He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket over his head, completely submerging himself.

* * *

Another memory swam into his subconscious's television.

"I look ridiculous," Lovino grimaced, eyeing himself warily in the mirror. "Where'd you even find this dress anyway?"'

"I got it from the charity shop- anyway, sit down- yes, like that," Feliciano commanded eagerly, stepping back behind the easel.

"Why'd I have to do this?" complained Lovino, pulling his vast skirts up over the chair.

"I couldn't get an actual girl to come be a model- and you promised, remember?"

"Only because you blackmailed me into it!"

"No, I offered you a deal and you took it- you just happened to be drunk at the time, and might not have known what you were agreeing to-"

"Okay, fine, fine, got it. Just get it over with." Lovino sighed irritably and folded his hands, straightening his back. After a couple minutes he started fidgeting.

"Hold still, you're going to ruin the picture! It can't be a still life if you're not  _still_!"

"Well, paint quicker, then! You know what'll happen if Roma comes home and-"

They both froze at the sound of the door opening.

"I'm home early today- where are you boys?" He sounded like a three-legged monster with the ominous thumping of his cane as he drew closer and closer. Frozen, unable to move, Feliciano and Lovino sat silently, praying that he would pass this room and move on to the next.

The door creaked open.

"H-Hi," Feliciano squeaked, paint dripping from his hovering brush onto the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Roma demanded. "Who is that gi- oh my Lord," he gasped, crossing himself. "Lovi?"

"No?" Lovino tried.

"What the fuck are you playing at, dressing up in…" A hand flew to his bearded mouth. "You boys aren't- aren't… faggots, are you?"

"No- we're not, we just-" Lovino stood up hurriedly, the chair knocking over. He backed away from Roma, holding his hands out, half pleadingly, like a beggar, half in protection. His heel trod on the hem of his dress and he tripped, falling against a bookshelf. Several old papers and magazines fluttered down.

"Fuck," Lovino groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He opened his eyes, only to see Roma bent over him.

"Your legs are shaved," he muttered, peering at Lovino's exposed calf. Quickly he pulled the skirt back over his legs, but it was too late.

"What kind of man shaves his legs?!"

"I just- like the way they feel-" Lovino whimpered, pressing himself against the bookshelf as if he wanted to just melt through it.

"And what kind of man," Roma straightened up, his cane wobbling under his weight. His back cracked. Clenched in his hand was some kind of magazine. "...collects men's underwear catalogues?!"

Lovino's mouth opened and then shut like a fish. He didn't recognize that magazine, it wasn't his- he didn't even know it had been there. He glanced at Feliciano for help, but saw his younger brother backed against the opposite wall, holding his blank canvas out in front of him like a shield, his cheeks flushed and wet, jaw quivering. As Roma started towards him, slowly, painfully, but yet so intimidating, and as Feliciano shrank back further into the wall, Lovino knew what he had to do.

"I- It's mine!" he cried. Roma stopped, pivoting slowly to face Lovino.

"This," he stabbed at the crumpled catalogue in his fist, "Is yours?"

"Yes!" Lovino babbled desperately. "It's mine!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Feliciano blink, confused, then open his mouth. Lovino gave a tiny, minute shake of his head and he closed it, hugging the canvas to his chest, too afraid to say anything.

As Roma drew closer and closer, his shadow looming over Lovino ominously, for some reason, the hotter the flame inside his chest burned, the flame that knew that he had to protect his little brother, no matter the consequences.

"You- you're a… a…" Roma couldn't seem to say it. His eyes bulged out and he clutched at his chest.

"Yes! I'm a.." Lovino took a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut. "I'm a faggot!" And as he said it, even though he had always pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and ignored them, he knew it to be true.

"Lovi!" Feliciano screamed. Lovino opened his eyes just as his grandfather collapsed on top of him.

The cane, now no longer held by anyone, clattered to the ground.

* * *

"You can come in now." The nurse held the door open for them and the two brothers rushed in to Roma's bedside.

" _Nonno, Nonno,_ are you okay? How are you feeling?" Feliciano crouched by the low hospital bed.

Dazed, still in a dreamy haze of shock, Lovino followed clumsily, sinking to his knees on the other side of the bed. Roma's weathered hand raised and rested on Feliciano's bowed head, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"I'll be fine."

" _Nonno,_ I'm sorry, I-" Lovino blurted, but Roma didn't even blink. In fact, it didn't seem as if he had heard at all and continued playing with Feliciano's hair.

"Can you hear me? I-" he tried again. This time his grandfather interrupted.

"Nurse?" he called. The nurse waiting by the door looked up and nodded.

"Yes?"

"There's a strange man in my room. He's kneeling by my bed right now."

"Wha-  _Nonno-_!" Lovino clutched at the old man's veined, leathery hand laying limply by his side, but he yanked it away as if he were something disgusting.

"The dark-haired one. I'd like you to take him out, please."

The nurse looked confused, but she nodded again. "Security?" she called, leaning out the door to yell up the hallway. Two men clad in uniforms appeared.

"That one," she said, pointing at Lovino with her pen. He looked up, his mouth forming words that couldn't be spoken. A guard grabbed him round the armpits and hoisted him up, dragging him to the doorway. It was only then that Lovino seemed to regain his voice.

"Wait!" he yelled, grinding his heels into the floor, causing the guard to stop. "I'm his grandson- there's some kind of mistake!"

The guard, still holding Lovino, turned to Roma. "Is this man your grandson?"

Looking straight through Lovino as if he didn't exist, Roma answered,

"Never seen him before in my life."

"No- Feli, you tell them! Tell them I'm his grandson! Feli!" Feliciano didn't move, Roma's hand which had once been caressing his hair lovingly was now closed around the top of his skull like a vice.

"Alright,  _signore,_ if you'll come with us," The guard tugged Lovino's arms.

"I- It wasn't mine!" Lovino cried desperately, struggling futilely against the guard. "The magazine-"

Roma's eye twitched. "Feli," he said slowly, quietly. "Was the magazine his?"

Feliciano's hands curled into fists on his knees, his eyes dripping as he answered shakily, "Yes."

Lovino fell limp. The guard stooped under the sudden extra weight, but yanked him back up.

Every muscle in his body just seemed to have stopped working. Even his brain was still ticking, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"No," he mumbled wordlessly. "You can't-" But it was too late. The other guard was closing the door behind. Through the last sliver of visibility into the room, Lovino saw Feliciano mouth the word 'sorry' just before it closed completely.

* * *

"Lovino?" Antonio knocked on the door. Lovino's eyes shot open as he jolted from his daydream, sitting up and forcing the blanket off his head. He opened his mouth to answer, but then remembered that he was angry and closed it again, laying back down and pulling the blanket over him once more.

"Can I come in?" More knocking. The knob jiggled in its metal frame as Antonio tried it.

Lovino pulled the blanket tighter around him until it was almost suffocating, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Please let me in." He sounded so forlorn, his voice cracking slightly on the 'please,' that Lovino even considered it for a second.

"I won't be mad, or- or do anything you don't want, or say stupid things, I'll-" Antonio was interrupted as there were several thumps, then a click. The door swung open a crack under his fist, curved to knock.

"What." Through the sliver of space between the door and its frame, Antonio could see Lovino's messy, tousled hair, the bags under his eyes, and a bland gray blanket draped around him.

"I- I'm sorry. For whatever I did," Antonio said helplessly. He frowned. "Are you okay? You're kind of… sweaty."

Dazedly, Lovino reached up to touch his face. It was covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"Fine," he croaked.

"Sure?" Lovino just stared back. "Um. Can I come in?" Antonio placed a hand on the door, trying to ease it open but Lovino held it stiff so he couldn't come any closer.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To apologize? For whatever I said?"

"Is that a question?"

"What? No- I mean it!" Antonio pushed slightly on the door but it held fast under Lovino's grip. "Are you sure you're okay? You really don't look too good."

"I'm  _fine_. What do you want."

"To help!"

"Great job with that so far." Lovino made to close the door, but Antonio stuck his foot in the crack, preventing it from moving.

"Please?" Antonio pleaded. "At least just tell me what's wrong- and don't say you're fine, because you're not," he added before Lovino could even say anything.

Lovino bit his lip, looking down angrily. After a moment's contemplation he grudgingly swung the door open and stepped aside.

Antonio strode into the dark room, his shadow lengthened ominously on the wall. There was a screen partition perpendicular to the left wall, separating two left quarters of the room, and subsequently, mattresses from each other. One was stripped bare of sheets, discarded papers and magazines on the floor. Tacked to that wall was a certificate of acceptance to Antonio's university, and several award ribbons, plaques, and medals. Empty paint bottles, brushes, scraps of paper with doodles on, were strewn around carelessly.

The other side, Lovino's, was much more neat. His mattress actually had sheets, an off-white beige color. A small table lamp lay on the floor next to the mattress, the wire extending off under the sheets. To the left of that were a stack of books, on top, a copy of the bible.

Lovino's wall had no medals, no awards. There were several posters of the S.S.C. Napoli; an old calendar from 2010, still stuck on November, the picture being Leonardo da Vinci's  _Virgin of the Rocks;_ and filling in the gaps between these were more snapshots and old kodak prints like the one Lovino had had in the shelter back in America. There were blank spaces amongst the pictures, presumably the ones that Lovino had brought back with him to America. Against the opposite wall was a dresser, one drawer stuck lopsided. A shirt sleeve poked out. On top of the dresser was an old radio and beside it a stack of CDs. At the foot of Lovino's mattress, Antonio saw the familiar duffel bag, half unzipped.

Cautiously he made his way to the mattress, stepping over empty crisp bags, stray pages glossy with magazine color, crunched up soda cans, three socks all mismatched, gum wrappers, and a broken CD, shards of glass scattered dangerously.

"Can I.. sit?" he asked hesitantly. Lovino exhaled a grimace, but gave in, seating himself and patting the spot next to him. Antonio sat down.

Lovino was still swaddled in the blanket, staring at the ground morosely.

"So… what's up?" Antonio attempted. Lovino grunted.

"If you don't have anything better to say, then leave." Lovino pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

"Not when you're like this."

"Like what?" scoffed Lovino. "I told you, there's nothing wr-"

"If nothing was wrong, you'd be calling me dick cheese or something right now, or headbutting me in the gut or something! But you're just sitting there, and I haven't been called any variation of the word dick for the past hour!"

"Dick cheese. There. I said it."

"Not angrily enough! Normally you'd be all, 'deek chEEZ!'" Antonio imitated Lovino's accent, waving his arms around like his excessive gesturing.

"I do  _not_  sound like that!" Lovino said angrily, but he couldn't stop a tiny giggle from escaping.

"You do too! And you wave your hands all around like this-" Grinning idiotically, Antonio flailed his arms around over his head. His hand connected with something, and Lovino gave a sharp cry.

"What the fuck! You fucking  _punched_ me!" he screeched, clutching his nose.

"Oh- fuck- uh, are you okay?!"

"No!" Lovino yelled indignantly. He pulled his cupped hand away from his face. "Is it bleeding?"

"No, it's… it's alright." Antonio leaned in, inspecting Lovino's nose.

Lovino grimaced, one hand still over his nose protectively. "You suck at gesturing," he muttered.

"I am, aren't I?" Antonio laughed, teasing his hair.

"You make a shitty Italian." He leaned against the wall. "Is there anything else you wanted to say?"

"Not that I can remember..."

"Then leave."

"That's kinda harsh, don'tcha think?" Lovino didn't reply.

"I don't care what you think. I just want to sleep." Lovino slid down the wall until he was collapsed on the mattress, chin on his chest, legs splayed out on the floor.

"Then I'll join you!"

"No. Go get your own bed."

"Can I take your brother's?"

"As long as you stay on that side." Lovino threw the blanket over himself, his ankles poking out. The mattress creaked as Antonio stood up. Lovino could hear the groaning floor under Antonio's heels as he plodded to Feliciano's bed.

"Are there any sheets or blankets?" Antonio asked.

"Check the dresser," Lovino mumbled, changing positions so he was on his side facing the wall, completely covered by the blanket. Antonio crossed the room again, sliding the wooden drawers open one by one. Footsteps followed by the rustling of cloth led behind the partition. A couple thuds and thumps were heard as the sheets were presumably put in the mattress.

* * *

Antonio flopped down on his mattress, gratefully pulling the covers over himself. It was only 9, but the jetlag was catching up to him and when the last light of the sun left the room, he was already asleep.


	21. Brotherly Dysphoria

Lovino woke earlier than everyone else, to his displeasure. When he laid his head back on his arm, he couldn't fall back into that comforting lull of blankness. Finally he forced himself upright and padded silently into the bathroom.

The shower gurgled as he turned it on, switched the lever to the hottest level. He unclothed, waiting for it to heat up. It always took a couple minutes.

Lovino opened the now steam-plated mirrored medicine cabinet, noting with surprise his toothbrush was still there, exactly as he had left it. He rinsed it off and squirted toothpaste on the bristles, rubbing it against his teeth until it foamed, then spitting. Once more he rinsed it, placing it back in the cup.

He closed the medicine cabinet. Vaguely through the steam he could see his muddled face peering blankly back at him. He wiped the condensation off, wet gathering on his hand, and looked back. His eyes and nose were slightly more visible. Lovino frowned at his reflection and stepped carefully into the shower.

The water was scalding, but he didn't change it. When he closed his eyes, his skin melted off and he grew another pair; a lighter-skinned, lighter-haired, shorter body, with chubby rosy cheeks and a smile that never went away and unlimitless talent.

No.

This time, different from the usual daydream, his body was that of a woman's, a tall, thin woman with curvy hips and a blossoming bosom and a blonde bob to rival that of Emma's. Tracing his shrunken waist and bony hips with his fingertips lightly, Lovino could almost feel his new body, one that Antonio could surely love.

The hot water metered out and turned into a cool spray. Lovino opened his eyes, the image gone with the hot water tank.

Quickly he soaped and shampooed his hair, the water growing colder every minute. Shivering, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself, crouching down on the floor and holding it around his shoulders, so that it covered most of him. Finally, when he had created a cavern of body heat within the confines of the towel, he dried his body and put clean clothes on.

He opened the bathroom door just as Antonio's fist was raised, poised to knock.

"Oh. Hi," Antonio said cheerily, but Lovino just brushed past him silently, knocking shoulders with him.

"G-Good morning.." Antonio called warily after Lovino's retreating figure, leaving water footprints on the floor. Sighing, he closed the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

Lovino found some frozen waffles in the fridge. When he pulled them out of the frosted over box, they had frozen so thick that it seemed that they were waffle ice-blocks. Irritated, Lovino set them on the counter to thaw and traipsed back to his room.

Roma still hadn't woken up yet, and he could hear the water running. After a moment it turned off again. A door slammed, and Antonio raced into the room, clutching a towel around his waist.

"I- It's cold!" he cried, as if he had never experienced a cold shower before.

Laying down on his mattress, arms behind his head, Lovino replied,

"Yeah, I know. I used up the hot water."

" _Why?"_

"Because I wanted to."

"But now  _I_ can't take a shower!" Antonio wailed, shivering, stepping from foot to foot.

"Yes, you can. It's just a cold one."

"That's so mean, Lovi!"

"There's nothing wrong with a cold shower. The Romans took cold showers," Lovino informed him.

"Only because they didn't have hot water!"

"They did too- or have you forgotten that fire exists?"

"Oh. Right." Antonio looked down at himself, as if only realizing that he wasn't wearing anything. "I'm gonna get dressed," he said quickly, and hurried out the room. Seconds later he came back in, grabbed his clothes in a pile on his mattress, and left again.

* * *

"So what do you want to do today?" Antonio asked, pouring milk in his cereal. It was crunchy and stale and tasted like dust. He looked longingly at the waffles contained in blocks of ice, melting slowly on the counter.

"What do you mean?" Lovino lifted his head slightly but did not look directly at Antonio.

"You know… where do you wanna go? What do you want to see? We could go to Naples, or-"

"You think we're here for  _sightseeing?"_

"Well, I mean- we're here, we might as well..?"

"There's actual work that needs doing! Dammit, why can't you ever take anything seriously?" Lovino admonished, sipping his coffee. He flinched and pulled back, setting the cup down quickly.

"Too hot?"

Lovino sniffed and looked away.

"Did you burn your tongue?" One shoulder twitched. "Aha, so you did," teased Antonio.

"Shut up." Pink tongue flicked in and out between mesmerizing lips. "Gimme the milk." He reached across the table and took it.

"It's empty!" he complained. "You finished it! Now I'll have to buy more!"

"You probably needed to go to the store anyway- the date on this cereal is from two years ago!"

"Oh, excuse me for not having fucking croissants for His Majesty's breakfast!" spat Lovino, slamming the table with both hands, rising to his feet.

"I never said anything like that! And why are you so angry at me? What did I do?"

"Everything!" Lovino coughed into his fist. "I'm fine!" he said as Antonio stood up as well.

"I came all this way- at least let me do what I came here for!"

"And what was that? Sightseeing?!"

"Shut up! You two're keeping me awake!" Roma yelled, banging on the wall with his cane. For a moment both of them hushed, but then went right back at it, whispering angrily to each other.

"See? You heard him- shut up!" hissed Lovino.

" _You_ were the one yelling!" Antonio paused, sighing, and sat back down in his chair. "Arguing is getting nothing done," he said. "We're both adults, so lets just work this out."

Lovino sniffed contemptuously, but sat as well. "So." he poised the word, his hands folded tightly on the table in front of him. His knuckles were white. With his thumbnail, he rubbed and scratched the skin on the opposite thumb anxiously.

Antonio took a deep breath, calming himself down. It wouldn't do to let himself get mad.

"Okay," he started. "What did I do that was wrong?"

"You first."

"Huh?" Antonio blinked. "What do you mean? What are you asking?"

"Why are you here?"

"I've told you- to help!"

"Why?"

"Because I want to! And it definitely seems that you need help- we've been here only a day and you've argued with your grandfather twice, about what I still don't know! And you-"

"What makes you think you can help?" interrupted Lovino, his voice cold.

"Well, I- I'm studying to be a therapist, I've taken psychology classes- I even intern at the local hospital's mental ward, and-"

"So I'm just another patient, then? This is all just some sort of  _test_ to see if you're a good therapist or not?"

"No!" said Antonio fervently. "Not at all- I just want to help, and I think I can, if you'd just let me! That's why I'm here- for you, not for me!"

"Okay." Lovino took a deep breath, settling back in his chair. "Let's say you are here to help-"

"I am!" Antonio interrupted, but Lovino shot him a menacing look and he shut up.

"So if you're here to help," Lovino continued as if there had been no break, "Why haven't you?"

"I've been trying to- I just don't understand Italian, so I have no clue what's going on, and then all of a sudden you're really mad at me and I don't know what I did, and you won't even tell me why-" Antonio broke off to breathe.

"It's your turn now," he said, gulping down air. "Why are you mad at me?"

Lovino looked away, not answering. His thumbnail scratched across his other thumb, leaving red marks in his skin.

"C'mon," Antonio prodded. "I went, you owe me this much."

"You.." Lovino started, his voice small.

"Good, see, we're getting somewhere," Antonio encouraged Lovino, gesturing for him to continue.

"You- you-"

"You… what? What did I do?" cajoled Antonio.

"You compared me with my brother!" Lovino finally yelled. His thumbnail broke skin and a small bead of blood formed on his knuckle.

"Huh?" Antonio blinked, processing the words. "That's it?" He began to laugh, disbelievingly. "I thought it was something serious-"

"It  _is_ serious!" Lovino slammed the table with his open palms, Antonio's cereal and his coffee jumping up and some liquid spilling out. His laughter dissipated with the sudden noise and aggression.

"I thought you were different! I thought you really cared about me!" Lovino exploded.

"But I  _do_ ca-" Antonio interrupted, but he just plowed over his words, flattening them into dust.

"You are- were- the first person to actually give two shits about me, to actually pay attention to me and laugh even when I said something that wasn't funny, or ask 'how are you' and really meaning it- but turns out you're just like the others- you were just interested in my brother!"

" _Whaaat?!"_ Antonio exclaimed. "Why the fuck would y-"

"Don't even deny it! I know it's true!" Lovino screamed, finally looking up, his face red, eyes glimmering dangerously. Roma thumped on the wall again, yelling,

"Quiet!"

"Why would you even think that?!" demanded Antonio, ignoring Roma's complaint.

"Because it's  _always_ him! It's always him and not me- how do you think it feels to be 'Feliciano's brother' and not just Lovino- I have a fucking  _name!_ I exist! But it seems I'm invisible until it becomes convenient for people to compare me to him to make him look better!  _He's_ the genius,  _he's_ the cute one, the goddamn fucking 'Spirit of Italy' or whatever they call him nowadays- I have nothing-  _nothing-_ to compare to that; no personality, no talent- I dropped out of high school to work at a fucking  _fast food restaurant!"_

"He's my younger brother, for fuck's sake, yet he's still the talented, genius, cheerful one that everyone looks up to- that should be me!  _I'm_ older than him, I should be his superior, but he just-" Lovino buried his head in his hands.

"No matter what I do, I'll always be second to him! I try  _so hard,"_ he gasped for breath, lifting his head, coughing twice, and then continued, "But I can never come close, I'm never good enough! And then you came along, and I thought maybe someone actually liked me for  _me,"_ Lovino punched his chest with his fist, tears brimming, "But turns out you're just like everyone else- you like him better than me, and you always have!"

"When did I  _ever_ say that I liked your brother better than you?!"

"You implied it!"

" _When?"_

"Last night! When you-" Lovino broke off, coughing. Antonio stood up quickly, hurrying to his side, but Lovino shoved him away.

"Don't- fucking- touch me," he spat, inbetween coughs. Intimidated, Antonio returned to his seat, waiting impatiently for the coughing fit to end. When Lovino had more or less sobered up, he said,

"But why would you think that about me- about your brother? I hardly even know him!"

"You know him well enough to have his number at the top of the list on your phone! You know him well enough to call him 'Feli' and go out to lunch with him when you think I'm asleep at the hospital! You two even have fucking  _inside jokes-_ and then you come swaggering over to me and have the nerve to say I don't appreciate my brother enough, or that he's fucking  _cute,_ and more talented than I'll ever be!"

"We're just friends!" insisted Antonio.

"He calls you 'Toni!'  _I_ don't even call you 'Toni,' but supposedly  _I'm_ your- your  _friend_ or something!"

"You can call me Toni if you want," muttered Antonio.

"That's not the fucking point!" Lovino slammed the table with his fist a second time, more liquid spilling.

"Then what  _is_ the point?!"

"The point is that you lied to me- you never liked me, you never have! You think I'm pathetic, a disgrace, useless, a- a-" Lovino's bottom lip trembled and the tears that had been gathering now spilled over his cheeks, "-A waste of space, a  _mistake_ , a-"

"No no no no no," Antonio hurried, standing up so quickly his chair fell over. He rushed to Lovino's side, kneeling in front of him.

"I don't think that at  _all!"_

"Yes, you do!" Lovino sobbed, burying his face in his hands, shaking it from side to side frantically. "You h-hate me, you think I'm disgusting, that I-"

"I don't. You know what I think? I think you think these things about yourself, and that you've convinced yourself that everyone thinks these horrible, awful things about you, so you can justify your own self-hate."

"No- I don't, I d-" Lovino choked, his shoulders shaking.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," said Antonio softly, getting up and rubbing Lovino's tensed shoulders comfortingly. "It's okay. Hating yourself is the first step to loving yourself."

Lovino just cried harder, shaking his head from side to side, denying Antonio's words.

"C'mon," Antonio murmured, pulling Lovino to his feet. Dazedly, still crying, he staggered a couple steps forward and fell into Antonio's open arms.

Antonio wrapped himself tightly around Lovino, feeling the heaving sobs of the smaller man.

"It's okay," he comforted. "It's going to be okay." He pressed his mouth to Lovino's neck, lingering for a second before burying his face in his quaking shoulder, swaying back and forth. He tightened his grip around him, one hand rubbing his back. The tumultuous sobs didn't stop.

"I- sor- sorry," wailed Lovino, clutching Antonio.

"No," whispered Antonio. "Don't say sorry.  _I'm_ the one who's sorry. You've done nothing wrong."

Even though his words were meant to make Lovino feel better, he only cried harder, grabbing at him as if he were his only support.

"Want me to sing?" asked Antonio quietly. Lovino nodded from inside Antonio's grasp, tears and snot rubbing against his shirt.

"Alright." Antonio lifted his head, taking a breath before he sang:

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

* * *

Antonio went through two repetitions of the song before Lovino calmed down.

"Are you okay now?" he asked, voice hushed.

"Yeah- sorry, I just.." Lovino quickly drew away, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I don't want to let go," he admitted before he could stop himself. Blood rushed to his face as he realized what he had said, and looked up quickly, protesting, but Antonio was smiling.

"I mean- " he stuttered quickly, but that annoying smile only widened.

"Why don't we move to the couch?" suggested Antonio.

"Huh?" And then, as he felt Antonio's hands move down, and the floor seemed to dissolve under his feet as he was lifted up, cradled in Antonio's arms, " _Huh?!"_

"I've always wanted to carry you like this," admitted Antonio, giggling giddily. He took a step forward and Lovino shrieked, throwing his arms around Antonio's neck in an attempt to not fall.

"Relax, I'm not going to drop you," said Antonio, but Lovino only clung to him tighter, crying shrilly,

"You'll drop me! You'll drop me!"

"No, I won't- see, we're already on the couch. You're fine, Lovi. You can open your eyes now."

Reluctantly Lovino raised his screwed-shut eyelids. He was indeed on the couch; on Antonio's lap to be precise. Heat flooded his body as he looked up to see that horrible, beautiful, shining, beaming face inches away from his own, and worse, that his arms were still around his neck, one hand on the back of Antonio's head.

"Be my snuggle bunny?" Antonio offered, tugging Lovino even closer, reducing the remaining space between their bodies so that they were pressed up to each other so tight there was no possibility of either of them breaking free now.

"Your  _what?!"_ sneered Lovino, though he made no effort to pull away, resting his head on Antonio's clavicle.

"My snuggle bunny! And then we can smooshie-floofie-snuggle-wuggle together!"

"I don't know what you mean," scoffed Lovino, placing his arms into a more comfortable position around Antonio's waist, breathing in his scent deeply. Even if this was only temporary, there was no reason he shouldn't make the most of it, right? He could never be Emma, or even amount to half of what Feliciano was, so he'd just have to settle for what he could get.

* * *

Antonio sighed happily, stroking Lovino's hair. The air seemed thick and heavy and settled inside him like syrup, even Lovino's weight seemed comfortable, like a blanket. He could hear the faint snuffling of Lovino's breathing, little puffs of air erupting against his neck, tickling his skin pleasantly. He felt very warm, for some reason, like he had just settled into a hot bath, and he couldn't stop the closing of his eyes, which were coated with lead and honey, sticking them shut…

* * *

"Antonio?" whispered Lovino, opening one eye. "Can you let go now?" Asleep, Antonio grunted in response and made no effort to let go.

"Are you fucking asleep?!" Lovino raised his head slightly to get a better look and confirmed that Antonio was, indeed, asleep.

"Goddamit," he grumbled, attempting to break free of Antonio's grasp and failing.

"Let  _go,_ you bastard!" hissed Lovino, tugging his heavy arms off of himself. Finally he rolled off the couch, breathing heavily.

He wiped the hair from his forehead, feeling it spring back into its usual part, then lifted himself off the floor. He strode behind to check on the waffles. Ice lightly frosted the tips and water gathered in the square crevices and underneath the waffles themselves, dripping off the counter and onto the floor. As Lovino wiped the water from beneath them and the floor, he heard the ghostly screech of Roma's wheelchair behind him.

Without turning around, he asked, "What do you want?"

"What were you two doing back there?"

"Nothing." said Lovino, a bit too quickly.

"You were crying, weren't you?" Lovino didn't answer. "You and Feli both were always crybabies," said Roma. His tone sounded almost accusational.

"We were kids. That's all over now."

"Then what were you doing back there?"

"It doesn't concern you. Go back to bed."

"I want to know what's going on between you and that.. man."

" _Nothing,_ I already said."

"Do you love him?" Roma's stark question took Lovino by surprise.

"O-Of course not! Besides, he…" Lovino gulped, a sudden pang of pain in his chest. "He has a girlfriend," he finished, noting the hoarseness of his voice.

To Lovino's annoyance, Roma began to laugh. "Ah," he chortled. "So  _that's_ how it is."

"That's how  _what_ is?" Lovino got to his feet, pivoting to face his grandfather, but he had already retreated back into his bedroom. Lovino could still hear his faint laughter through the door.


	22. Churros

Antonio sneezed himself awake. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes. A soft gray blanket had been placed over him, presumably the cause of the sneezing. He held it to his nose. It smelt like Lovino. He inhaled deeply, and then sneezed again. Point taken.

Antonio flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to untangle himself from the web of blanket, but only succeeded in falling off the sofa. He heard a giggling from above him and threw off the blanket, sitting up.

Lovino was sitting on the opposite sofa, hand over his mouth to conceal his laughter. In his other hand was a cup of coffee. At the sound of Lovino's hiccupy giggles, the pain in Antonio's back subsided and was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling that spread through his whole body, making his fingers and toes tingle as if Lovino's laughs were going directly into him and reverberating pleasantly. Antonio began to laugh too, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly.

"Want some coffee?" asked Lovino, laughter still evident in his voice.

"Sure." Antonio was smiling so wide he felt his face might just crack in two. He slapped his cheeks with his hands, trying to get some feeling back into them.

"What are you doing?!"

"Oh. Uh." Antonio lowered his hands from his face and looked at them. "I don't know."

Lovino chuckled and continued to the kitchenette.

Oh god, Lovino was just so cute, Antonio couldn't handle it- that laugh, that tiny smile, the way he bounced when he walked… Hugging himself, Antonio began to roll around on the floor, not even knowing why. His face hurt from smiling so much, but he couldn't stop, Lovino was just too cute…

"The fuck are you doing?!"

Antonio sat up at once, banging his head on the side of the table. "What?" he said quickly.

"You were just.."

"Doing what?" he folded his hands in his lap like a business man. "I wasn't doing anything silly, no, not me- I'd never do something silly!"

"Okay, okay, fine, got it." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Here's your coffee." He squatted down and handed a mug to Antonio, sitting down on the floor himself.

"Ah, great. Thanks." Antonio took it from Lovino gratefully, preparing to take a gulp. As his lips touched the hot liquid and it poured into his mouth, Lovino warned,

"Oh, and be careful. It's really hot."

Antonio forced himself to swallow the searing coffee, his eyes tearing. "C-Couldn't you have said that earlier?!" he gasped, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Lovino shrugged passively. "Put your tongue back in your mouth," he commanded.

"Buh i's bunt!" complained Antonio thickly.

"And I don't care."

Reluctantly, Antonio retracted his tongue back into his mouth.

"Whut thyme ith it?" he asked, his tongue still feeling strange and numb.

"A bit after three."

"Oh. Cool." Antonio ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to say. "How are you?"

"Fine," replied Lovino curtly, getting to his feet. "I need to go to town to get some stuff. Do you wanna come?"

"Sure!" Antonio leaped to his feet, excited to see more of Italy. "Let me get my camera!"

"We're just going to the supermarket!" Lovino called after him, but Antonio had already bounded into the bedroom to retrieve his things.

"I got my bag and my shoes- what's the weather like? Is it cold? Do I need my coat? Or-"

"Just wear your sweater and let's go! Jesus, is it really that hard?" Lovino waited by the door, tapping his foot impatiently.

Antonio emerged.

"You can't wear that backpack!" reprimanded Lovino, walking over and pulling it off of his shoulders.

"Why not?"

"It's fucking neon- you'll get mugged!"

"Oh." Antonio hung his head. "Okay." He dropped it on the floor, dejected.

Lovino took a deep breath. "Are we ready?" He gave the impression of an irritated mother, trying to herd her misbehaving children out of the house in time for church.

He swung the door open and started down the steps, Antonio close behind.

* * *

"Whoa…" Antonio lifted his camera, snapping a few shots.

"Stop it, you're embarrassing me," mumbled Lovino, his ears red. "It's just a supermarket."

"Yeah, but Italian!"

"And still a supermarket."

"But  _Italian!"_  Antonio took a couple more photos of the noodle aisle.

"Just put that camera away! Everyone is staring!"

"Lovi- we're in  _Italy!"_  gasped Antonio, as if just realizing that their transcontinental flight had, in fact, been transcontinental.

"I know, so turn off the fucking camera already!"

"But-"

"I can, and I will break it," threatened Lovino. Antonio switched the camera off, stowing it regretfully in his pocket.

"So what are we gonna buy?" he asked.

"Food. What else?"

"Oh boy!" Antonio clapped his hands excitedly. "What are we gonna have for dinner tonight?"

"For the rest of the week," corrected Lovino. "And I just have 11 euros, so don't get your hopes up." Upon seeing his friend's crestfallen expression, he added quickly,

"I'll see if I can get some ingredients to make you something. What's your favorite food?"

"Churros!" said Antonio, brightening up.

"Churros?" contemplated Lovino. "Those are easy. I can make that."

"Really?!" Antonio jumped up and down, unable to contain his glee. "You'd do that for me?! Oh my gosh, Lovi, thank you thank you thank you!" He threw his arms around Lovino's shoulders from behind, the extra weight making him stagger a little.

"Antonio!" Lovino hissed, his face growing red from the combined stares of other shoppers and the fact that Antonio was clinging to him, pressed up against his back- oh god, what if he could feel how fast his heart was beating right now, what if he could feel the heat and lust and desire coursing through Lovino's very being, filling him from head to toe…

"W-We're in public!" he tried again, his voice quivering a bit.

"Ohmygosh Lovi you're my bestest friend ever thank you thank you I love you so much, Lovi, you're the best!" exclaimed Antonio, only hugging the protesting Italian tighter.

"Okay, okay, just get off or I won't make it!"

"Aww…" Deflated but not discouraged, Antonio let his arms fell to his sides, taking a step back.

"Thanks," said Lovino curtly, striding briskly forward, attempting to hide the redness of his face from Antonio.

Antonio trotted behind Lovino happily all the way through and out of the supermarket, even skipping for a while until, annoyed, Lovino weighed him down with shopping bags.

* * *

"Looks great," commented Antonio.

"I haven't even made it yet! I'm still unpacking the groceries," Lovino told him huffily, looking over his shoulder to speak to Antonio, bent over in front of the short refrigerator.

"Oh. Right." Antonio laughed nervously. "What I mean to say is, er, that… that it'll look great once you start!" he corrected himself.

"Don't strain yourself." Lovino straightened up, stretching. His back cracked.

"Out the way," he commanded. "I actually gotta make this if you want to eat it."

"Right. Sorry." Antonio backed up against the wall, allowing Lovino to pass, watching with interest as he pulled out several cooking implements and devices from various drawers and cabinets, nooks and crannies, slamming a large frying pan down and turning on the gas. He paused.

"I can't do it if you're watching!" he complained.

"Aww, but I wanna see how you do it," whined Antonio. "You look so cool when you cook."

"I don't care- go stand somewhere where you can't bother me!"

Begrudgingly, Antonio obliged, retreating to a faraway corner where he could still see, but wasn't directly behind Lovino.

"Actually, wait- can you tie my apron?" called Lovino, the tips of his ears pink.

"Aha, so you do need me after all," teased Antonio.

"I do not- it's just easier when you do it, that's all!"

"Sure, sure." Antonio ambled over, taking the two drawstrings in his hands. "How tight do you want it?"

"I'll tell you when to stop." Antonio began to pull, crossing the two strings over each other, getting closer and closer to the small of Lovino's back.

"How's this?"

"Tighter."

_"This?"_

"Tighter."

"What about now?"

"More." Finally Lovino stopped him, saying, "There. There is good."

"God, you're  _waaaay_  too skinny," muttered Antonio, his fingers slipping on the small strings. "Have you always been this skinny?"

"I'm just small." Embarrassment was evident in Lovino's voice and Antonio forced himself, with difficulty, to not ask anymore questions. He double-knotted Lovino's apron and stepped back silently, watching as he poured oil on the surface of the pan; sizzling, bubbling under the heat of blue gas-flame.

"I couldn't afford to eat much in America," Lovino broke the silence, surprising them both. "You saw me, in line for free food. Eating napkins. Trash."

"I- sorry." Antonio hung his head, ashamed, but Lovino continued to speak; the sound of water pouring, combining, congealing with flour and sugar providing a background symphony,

"And when I was a kid, I didn't get much to eat. So I've always been small and skinny- Feli too, that's why people mistake him for a 12-year old when he's 17."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

Lovino merely bit his lip, shrugging, and continued to stir the dough.

"C'mere," he said finally, nodding towards the counter next to him. "Don't just stand there, make yourself useful."

"Right!" Antonio beamed, cheering up. He bounded over to Lovino. "What should I do?"

"Get me a plastic bag for the dough, and cut it up. There's scissors in that drawer there."

Obligingly Antonio got out a plastic bag, cutting a star shape into one corner like he had so often watched his mother do, as Lovino cut the heat off, shaping the newly-formed dough in a ball.

"Here." Lovino plopped the dough ball into the plastic bag, putting the pan in the sink and bringing the other frying pan that had been dutifully heating oil to the forefront of the stove. he stepped aside, allowing Antonio room.

"You can squeeze them out." Doubtfully Antonio took his place, squeezing the makeshift plastic pastry bag, now containing the still hot dough, over the bubbling oil. A tiny drop of dough came out.

"Harder," commanded Lovino, and Antonio clenched his hands, a huge glob erupting out the tip.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Lovino quickly, placing his hands over Antonio's. "Gently. Like this,"

His soft fingers collided over Antonio's own thick ones, guiding, teaching him through touch. He squeezed gently, molding Antonio's hands around the plastic bag. Shaped by the star Antonio had cut, a tube of soft dough eased out the pastry bag. Lovino moved Antonio's hands along so that the tube elongated and stretched; settling, sizzling in the pan of oil.

"There you go," said Lovino, a soft smile illuminating his face. He drew back, his hands lifting off of Antonio's. The warmth that had been building in Antonio's chest shrank and he smiled as well, to hide his awkwardness and longing.

"You're really good at this," mused Antonio. "Did your mom teach you how to cook?"

A muscle in Lovino's jaw clenched, the peace that had previously lit his being waning. His movements, frying the churro, became jerky, mechanic.

"I taught myself," he muttered finally.

Antonio viewed Lovino from the side as he worked, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut. He hated when Lovino became all stressed and tensed, even more so when it was he who had caused it. He wished he could help Lovino to relax; ease up a little, smile a bit more.

Unable to fight the impulse, Antonio reached from behind, wrapping his arms around Lovino's thin waist and propping his chin on his shoulder.

"H-Hey!" Lovino protested, but seemed to settle a bit at Antonio's touch.

"I'm just so happy- Lovi, making me churros… it's like a dream!"

"Okay, okay, just get off- you'll ruin the churros!"

"Aww.." reluctantly, Antonio backed off. But when he returned back to the counter, peeking sideways, he was pleased to see a faint smile tracing Lovino's lips, the tension in his shoulders and face gone.


	23. Ancient Logic

"Here." Lovino set the plate of churros on the table in front of Antonio and his grandfather.

"Churros?" Roma picked one up, examining it. "You don't usually make these."

"He likes them." Lovino's hand trembled, the plate rattling against the table as he lay it down.

"Ah. I see." Roma's beard twitched irritably. "You didn't tell me you grew a  _fica_ while you were swanning around in America with him."

"I was not 'swanning around,' I was working. And no, I don't have a vag."

"Not yet," said Roma, taking a bite of his churro. "But soon."

Lovino sighed in disgust, sliding the plate towards Antonio and seating himself.

"Thanks!" Antonio bit into his churro. "I's rully gud!" he enthused, crumbs spraying everywhere. "You're great, Lovi!" He turned to Roma. "Your grandson is an amazing cook!" he beamed, giving Roma a thumbs up.

Roma stared blankly at Antonio, not comprehending. Shaking with old age, spotted and veined, his hand reached out and before Antonio knew what he was doing, had grabbed his wrist with surprising strength for a man so old and presumably weak, twisting it backwards. Pain shot through Antonio's whole arm and he yelped, crying out,

"Lovi! Help!"

Lovino groaned, burying his face in his hands.

* * *

Antonio flipped to a random page in his E-Z Italian book.

 _Ciao,_  it said, in bright red, white, and green letters.  _If you have bought this book, you must want to learn Italian!_

"No shit," muttered Antonio. A muffled thump reverberated against the bathroom door, shaking it in its hinges. He looked up doubtfully. Two voices contrasting, young and old, but both tired, irritated, and very angry, whirled, seeping under the door, distracting Antonio.

"Could you two maybe keep it down?" he yelled over the noise.

"Satan! Lucifer!" screamed Roma.

"Shut up and take off your clothes!" was Lovino's response, equally angry and loud, if not more so. "I gotta bathe you!"

"Never!" screeched Roma, struggling desperately as Lovino pulled off his nightdress, leaving him in only thin white pants.

"Satan!" he cried again, directed at Lovino. "Spawn of the Devil!"

"If I'm the devil's child, what does that make you?" muttered Lovino, wetting a sponge, slathering Roma's frail torso with suds.

The old man clutched desperately at his cross. "Exorcisamus te, omnis imundus.."

"Oh my  _god,"_  Lovino rolled his eyes. "You can't exorcise me, I'm human!"

"Away with ye, demon!"

Lovino plunged the sponge into the bucket of warm, soapy water and brought it out again, dripping. He plopped it on Roma and scrubbed, washing him down forcefully, bubbles sticking in the old man's beard and white chest hair.

"Help!" the old man screamed at the top of his lungs. "He's killing me! Bloody murder!  _Bloody murder!"_

"Shut  _up!"_  Completely drenched from all of Roma's flailing, sending water everywhere, Lovino worked shampoo through Roma's beard and what was left of his hair.

"The devil lives! The devil lives and he's here!"

Someone in another flat banged on the wall. "Shut it!" they yelled.

" _You_  shut it!" Lovino shot back. "Tilt your head back," he commanded his grandfather, wheeling him over to the edge of the bath and holding his head back. Roma struggled but to no avail, the bucket full of water was poured over him anyway. Lovino refilled the bucket with clean water and upturned it over Roma once more, washing the soap off of him. Before the old man could move, Lovino had grabbed the last object remaining dry in the cramped room, a towel, and rubbed it all over Roma's wet body.

"There," he said, breathing heavily from the effort of fighting off his grandfather's attempts to derail his bath. "You're clean. You can go now." He unlocked the door, dropping the now soaked nightdress in Roma's lap.

Without a glance back, he sped off through the doorway, his flabby arms wheeling him to his room. The lock clicked.

Lovino sank down onto the closed lid of the toilet, panting. Antonio looked up at the sound of his wheezing.

"You okay?" he called, folding the corner of the page.

Lovino held his hand up to tell Antonio not to get up, gasping. Antonio ignored the gesture and hurried to his side.

"I'm okay," he coughed. "Just a bit... cold."

"I'll bet, you're soaked." Antonio held out a hand to help Lovino up. "C'mon, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

He lead him to their room, partially supporting Lovino. He must have been really exhausted, for he sank down to his mattress with such speed it was hard to tell if he was falling or just well-aimed and determined. He leaned against the wall behind him, his head lolling back until it rested on the plaster. He didn't seem to notice or care when Antonio pulled off his socks with difficulty; they were so wet they stuck to his feet, but when he began to unbutton Lovino's shirt he cried out, lifting his leg underneath Antonio and kicking him square in the stomach, forcing him away.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he shrieked, holding his arms to his chest protectively.

"Taking your clothes off… you'll catch cold.." groaned Antonio, doubled over, clutching his belly.

"I can do it myself!" Lovino snapped. "Just don't watch."

"Right, right." Antonio covered his eyes with his hands, hearing the rustle of fabric.

"Can I look yet?" he asked after a couple minutes, his fingers sliding apart so he could see slightly through.

"No!" yelled Lovino, pulling his jeans down. Quickly Antonio put his fingers back together, but he couldn't get rid of the image that he had just seen.

Lovino was wearing the lingerie Antonio had bought him for a joke. Just the underwear, a pair of pink satiny panties framed with lace. Not a thong or a cut-out or anything like that, just casual, sexy panties.

And Lovino was wearing them.

Antonio felt slightly weak as the blood in his body rushed elsewhere.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he said quickly, hurrying as fast he could, his pants growing increasingly tighter, to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door, almost slipping on the wet sudsy floor as he made his way to the sink. Thoughts racing, he turned the cold water tap to full, a jet of at-first brown, then slowly clear, icy water spraying, ricocheting, off his skin so hard it hurt, like a thousand needles of ice.

Yes. Good. This was good.

Anything to take his mind off Lovino; off those deliciously tight pink panties that seemed somehow to be made specifically for him; off that full, luscious, god-given ass like that of Greek sculptures of old- Yes, Antonio was Zeus, and Lovino was Ganymede, ready to be swept up to Olympus and ravished; Antonio was Psyche viewing the beauty of Eros for the first time, awed- Certainly myths, tales, legends would be written about that ass for years to come, and  _Antonio had seen it,_ clothed in thin pink satin and lace like a savoury treat about to be unwrapped…

No.

_No._

Antonio stuck his entire head under the faucet.

 _Emma and only Emma,_ he chanted to himself in his mind.  _Emma and only Emma._

"Antonio? What are you doing in there?" Lovino knocked on the wall from his room, voice muffled slightly by the weak plaster.

"N-Nothing!" spluttered Antonio, mouth full of water.

"The water's been running for five straight minutes! Don't you dare waste any of it, you hear?!"

"I know- sorry-" Antonio turned the faucet off, water dripping down his back and shirt, adding to the puddle on the floor leftover from Roma's bath. Thankfully during his cold cleanse his boner had shrunk to nonexistence.

He unlocked the door, hands still shaking slightly, and stepped out, sodden.

"Jesus!" Lovino exclaimed, upon seeing him. "Did you fall in the toilet or something?"

"No, I just.." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had developed to deal with awkward situations such as this one. "...I just felt kinda hot, I guess," he finished lamely.

Lovino shook his head, muttering "idiot," under his breath, but let him in all the same.

"Don't drip on the floor," he warned him, settling on his mattress and pulling the familiar gray blanket around himself, his bare feet poking out. Antonio noticed that he was shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asked, seating himself beside Lovino.

"Of course I'm fucking cold! I'm soaked and the heating won't turn on till 10- And don't sit next to me, you'll get me wet," Lovino reprimanded him.

Antonio mumbled a brief apology and scooted off the mattress. Everytime he looked at Lovino, he couldn't shake the image of those pink panties from his mind. It just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to envision Emma or ponies or even his wrinkly old grandmother. Was his sanity finally leaving him?

Lovino sneezed, causing him to cough. Antonio zapped out of his trance at the sound, automatically pulling the pack of tissues that he carried with him at all times for this exact purpose, from his pocket.

"Thanks, but I got this," said Lovino, licking his lips to clear the few specks of blood that had spattered his mouth. Transfixed, Antonio's eyes followed the slim pink tongue as it flicked, almost reptilian, around those tantalizing lips… he wondered what they tasted like- there was only one way to find out, yes, he'd just have to get it over with…

"The hell you doing, fuckwit?" Lovino's stark voice broke Antonio from his daydream. It was only then that he realized he had subconsciously been leaning in.

"Oh- uh- shit, I dunno," apologized Antonio, his tongue tripping over his words. He blinked twice, shaking his head like a dog, specks of water flying everywhere in an attempt to rid himself of the images infecting his mind.

Why did Lovino always seem to drive him crazy with just the smallest, most incongruous gestures and actions?

Why was he affected so much?

And why did he like it so damn much?

* * *

Antonio was roused out of his dreams by the sound of Lovino coughing. It was a normal occurrence, so he closed his eyes and attempted to get back to sleep. A couple minutes later he was once more woken, not by the sound of coughing, but something stranger.

A peculiar gurgling noise was emanating from the other side of the screen- Lovino's side. Antonio forced himself upright and crawled past the screen to Lovino. He was asleep on his back, blood filling his mouth, suffocating him. Still drowsy, Antonio rolled him over to his side, muttering,

"Didn't I tell you to sleep on your side?"

Lovino groaned in his slumber, globules of blood leaking out the side of his open mouth and onto his sheets and the floor. Antonio cursed under his breath and got up to find something to catch it with. In a cabinet he found a cracked bowl, but when he pulled it out several cockroaches jumped from its depths and scuttled away. He cried out, dropping the bowl, which shattered on the floor loudly. Antonio froze, hearing a snort come from Roma's room. He  _really_ didn't want to wake Lovino's grandfather, especially when he was wearing turtle boxers and nothing else.

A little more carefully, Antonio searched the rest of the cabinets. He managed to find a bowl that did not have insects, rats, mold, or unidentified animal feces behind a stack of dusty ration books from 1943, and a rag with strange stains he didn't want to think about in a drawer full of ketchup packets from Spizzico's.

Rushing back to Lovino's side, he placed the rag under Lovino's face to protect the sheets from his bloody phlegm and the bowl beside the mattress, mopping up the blood on the floor with a pair of dirty socks. Already exhausted, he cleaned up the shards from the bowl he had broken, not even hearing Roma's door creak open.

A gust of chill air hit him from behind and Antonio turned around, only to see Roma, clad only in a pair of white boxers that matched his snowy beard, opening the small, porthole-like window, cane shaking dangerously under his weight.

"Hey!" he said, but the old man ignored him, limping over to Lovino's room. Antonio disposed of the shards and hurried behind him, as Roma pulled the gray blanket off of the still-sleeping Lovino. Clutched in his other hand was a pewter pitcher brimming with icy water. Antonio was just processing what was happening when Roma tossed the contents over Lovino's body.

Lovino spluttered into consciousness, flailing desperately as Roma tore the shirt off his frail body, pouring another load of the ice water on him. He was preparing a third when Antonio grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded.

Roma looked confused. "Cold- bring down- fever," he managed to say, his eyes bugging out with the effort of trying to speak English.

"No! No- that's not how it works! He needs warm!" reprimanded Antonio, pointing at Lovino. "He need warm," he said again, slowly so the old man could understand.

"No no no no no," argued Roma, his beard shaking with every word. "Cold go up, hot go down!" He tapped his bald head. "Is science," he declared.

Lovino made a sound like a dying cat, struggling for air.

"He can't breathe!" protested Antonio. "You're not helping!"

"He need more cold," decided Roma, and emptied the rest of the pitcher over Lovino, ice cubes bouncing off his back.

Lovino flinched; a loud gasping, wheezing sound erupting from his cracked lips.

"No!" chastised Antonio once more. "Cold is bad! No cold!" He squatted down and covered Lovino with the gray blanket, rubbing his bare torso to create warmth.

There was a thump beside him as Roma dropped to his knees, pushing Antonio aside.

"You no touch him!" he accused, and began to forcefully knead on Lovino's back. He made a noise like the squelch of a slug after being crushed with a shoe, and Antonio feared more and more for his health.

"You're hurting him!" he cried, shoving the old man aside. He rubbed Lovino's shoulder, attempting to rouse him.

"'M cold," he mumbled, lifting his head and then letting it fall back on his pillow dramatically.

"I'll bet, you're soaked," said Antonio, casting a nasty look at Roma. "I'll get you a dry blanket." He pulled off the wet blanket, replacing it with the one from his bed.

"Still cold," complained Lovino.

"But you're so sweaty!" Antonio felt Lovino's forehead. "I'm gonna get you some ibuprofen. Can you swallow?"

Lovino groaned, spitting out blood. Antonio took the opportunity to shove two ibuprofen tablets in his mouth, but he just choked and spit them out with the blood.

"Isn't there another way you can take these?" asked Antonio.

"Crush them up and I'll snort them," choked Lovino, face-down on the pillow. Unsure whether it was a joke or not, Antonio chuckled nervously, tucking the blanket in around Lovino's shoulders.

"You've been working yourself too hard," he reprimanded. "I bet Roma got you sick from all his thrashing and throwing water around." Nervously Antonio checked over his shoulder to make sure the old man hadn't heard, but thankfully it seemed he had left.

"Why do you work yourself to death for- for  _him?"_  continued Antonio, whispering even though Roma was not within earshot.

Lovino shrugged, adjusting himself so that his head was sideways on his pillow, facing Antonio. "I owe him," he muttered, closing his eyes tiredly, as if that in itself was a sufficient answer. "He took care of us."

"You don't owe him shit!" insisted Antonio. "He's your grandpa, that's what they're supposed to do!"

"He could've just shunted us off into a home, or left us on the streets, but he didn't! He took care of us. So I owe him for that."

"And besides," he continued, downcast, "it's my fault he's sick."

"And it's  _his_ fault  _you're_ sick! Stop trying to justify his abuse!" Antonio reached out and clutched Lovino's clammy hand in his own.

"The whole time I've been here, he's been nothing but horrible to you! He doesn't deserve you!"

Lovino said nothing, his expression distasteful. He rolled onto his other side and pulled his hand out of Antonio's, facing the wall where he couldn't see him.

"I'm tired," he mumbled. "Leave me alone so I can sleep."

"..Okay." Antonio hung his head, knowing whatever he could say wouldn't have any impact. "You call if you need me."

"I won't." Lovino's stark refusal hit Antonio in the back like a jab as he walked out the room, the door squeaking shut.


	24. Christmas Eve Eve

At around nine that evening, Lovino finally emerged, his grey blanket wrapped around himself for protection.

"Hey," greeted Antonio gratefully, patting the couch next to him. "Thank god you're up, your grandad has been making me watch Italian soaps and I have no idea what's going on."

Wordlessly, Lovino seated himself beside his friend, pulling his legs off the floor and drawing them close to him, toes curled on the scratchy fabric.

"How you feeling?" he asked, pressing the back of his hand to Lovino's sweaty forehead. Lovino gave a noncommittal grunt at the back of his throat.

"You have a fever still," Antonio told him. "Do you want some ibuprofen? Try to swallow it this time," he added quickly, getting up and returning with a small bottle. He shaked it merrily, inducing a rattling noise.

"It's like  _maracas!"_  he laughed, doing a little dance and shaking the bottle to and fro to produce the same rattling sound.

"La cucara _cha!_ La cucara _cha!"_ he sang, dancing over to Lovino, trying to get him to laugh. Lovino rolled his eyes, but a faint smile teased the corners of his mouth. Just this simple gesture, which others may have missed entirely, filled Antonio with glee. He shook out two small pills, handing them to Lovino, who gulped them down eagerly.

He exhaled deeply, leaning back against the cough and settling in, drawing his blanket ever tighter around himself.

"I feel like shit," he mused, his voice raspy. "A big, steaming, pile of-"

"Poopy?" suggested Antonio, giggling. Lovino glared at him sideways, his eyes slits in his face. He coughed, shoulders shaking. Swallowing blood with difficulty, Lovino winced, his chest hurting more than ever. The metallic, salty taste of blood stained his mouth and made him nauseous.

"I hate the taste of blood," he complained. "Makes me want to puke."

"I hate the sight of blood," admitted Antonio, smiling grimly. "I feel faint when I see it. So I guess that makes two of us."

Lovino looked at him pointedly. "How have you stayed with me this whole time, then? I'm practically coughing up the stuff every minute!"

Antonio shrugged. "I dunno. I just imagine how much worse it must be for you and try to suck it up."

Lovino raised his eyebrows but remained silent, picking at his toenails absentmindedly.

"Also," he added, "the thought of you kinda calms me down. Weird, right?"

This time it was Lovino who shrugged, hiding his awkwardness. Antonio smiled, watching him. And then Lovino did something completely unexpected: he let himself fall sideways onto Antonio, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I'm cold," he complained, and then peeked up at Antonio through his lashes accusingly, as if it were his fault. Cheeks tinged with red, he whispered,

" _Warm me up."_

Feeling his face flood with color, Antonio nodded, unable to disobey. He gulped nervously, his arm extending out and pulling Lovino closer to him until he was practically on his lap. He rubbed up and down on Lovino's arm, garnering a soft mumble of approval. He snuggled up against Antonio, almost catlike in demeanor. Encouraged, Antonio rubbed faster to create more friction. Lovino closed his eyes satisfactorily. Antonio could feel the heat of Lovino's breath hit his neck, behind his ear, tickling him pleasurably.

It was surprisingly sensual, in an odd way Antonio couldn't explain. Creating heat between two bodies, rubbing, skin-against-skin; perhaps that was it, but it was something more. The way the Lovino's lips were so close to the nape of his neck, close enough that he could feel and hear the whistle of his hot breath, teasing his ear; the way their bodies were pressed up so close there was barely room for air; the way Lovino responded to the friction and heat Antonio was creating for him, practically purring under his hands; the way Antonio could feel Lovino's thigh next to his, just the simple touch enough to drive him insane…

"That's enough." Lovino interrupted Antonio's thoughts. "I'm warm now." He drew back, retreating to the other end of the couch, as far away from Antonio as he could possibly be, face bright red. Antonio was almost grateful- his arms had been growing tired- but he missed the touch, the contact, the heat that they had been sharing. However, he figured this was for the best- better he stop now than become so hopelessly entangled he'd forget about Emma, and how much he loved her- yes, he loved her, so so much, that's what he had to think about, especially in times like now, when he was craving the touch of Lovino like an expensive drug impossible to attain.

Lovino could hear the rush of blood in his ears, pumping insanely with his heart. His arms still tingled where Antonio had touched him, as if the feeling had been imprinted on him. He clutched at his chest. Amid the constant, dull pain, he could feel the beating of his heart against his ribs, like a bird trying to break free from its cage. The pneumatic beats reverberated through his whole body, and though his skin felt cold and clammy to the touch, underneath it seemed as if he were a simmering pot just ready to overflow.

What had he been thinking, asking Antonio to 'warm him up?' Hadn't the whole point of him coming back to Italy (apart from the fact that he had no choice in the matter) been so that he could detox, have time to reflect on himself and his thoughts, especially the ones that involved Antonio. It wasn't right, for him to feel this way about another man- a man in a relationship, no less- especially when said feelings were going to bring ruin to his family. Roma was so sick already, and he would just continue to get worse unless Lovino could rein in his emotions, bury them, keep himself inside a strict parameter of supposed heterosexuality and normativity. And here he was, practically inviting Antonio to… Lovino didn't even want to think about it. What if he had taken 'warm me up' a different way? What then?

"You alright?" Lovino gasped at the sound of Antonio's voice, startling him. What if he was able to tell that he was thinking about him, that this elevated temperature and forceful heartbeat was due to just those few precious minutes of contact? Lovino could feel his heart start to speed up again- god, was just Antonio's  _voice_  now enough to elicit a physical response?!

"Y-Yeah!" he said quickly, voice a couple pitches higher than perhaps it should have been. "Just... tired."

"Yeah." Antonio smiled understandingly. "You are sick, after all." He glanced over at Roma, snoring in his chair, head tilted back.

"Are the meds starting to work?" he asked. His eyes crinkled in the cutest way when he smiled, and Lovino found himself so absorbed in just watching the slivers of green between his cheeks and brow that he almost forgot to answer.

"I think so. My head doesn't hurt as much," he said, bringing the blanket closer around himself, trying to replace the sensation of Antonio's arm around him.

"That's good." Antonio yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "I'm going to go to bed," he said. "Are you gonna, too?"

"I'm not really sleepy." Lovino scratched his toe with the toenail of his other foot. "I'll stay out here."

"Suit yourself," mumbled Antonio, getting off the couch with a creak. "'Night."

"Yeah." The door closed, the hinges whining in want of lubrication. Lovino watched him leave pensively, and then scooted over to the opposite side of the couch, where Antonio had been seconds before. It was still warm, and Lovino curled up like a cat, pulling his legs to his chest and lying down. The scratchy fabric of the couch irritated his cheek.

He reached up and clicked off the light, settling back down. The TV was still on, but the programmes had long since ended, replaced by only silent static. Lovino watched it until his eyes blurred, and then some. Images began to appear in the dancing pixels- Antonio, smiling kindly; his grandfather, anger flushing his cheeks; his brother, silent tears pouring down his face as he was forced to deny his ownership of the magazine that had sealed Lovino's fate.

Lovino blinked, and the image faded. He glanced over at his grandfather, then back at the television. Static illuminated the room, casting a ghostly glow over everything. He held his hand in front of his face. The silhouette was black, but highlighting the edges was a translucent silver.

He lowered his hand, eyes returning faithfully to the static, searching the depths of the flickering screen. He found nothing: just black and white, coldness, and a headache.

He eventually switched the television off, but his eyes remained open, blank, staring.

* * *

"Hey." Antonio woke Lovino, handing him a mug of steaming coffee. Lovino groaned, rolling over.

"What time is it?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Two in the afternoon."

"Wha-" Lovino jerked upright, shoving the blanket off of him.

"Yeah. I was gonna let you sleep, but I figured it was late enough. Plus, I got bored and your grandfather isn't very interesting."

Lovino sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"I feel like shit," he complained. "I need a drink."

"You just woke up!"

"What better time to start?" He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and attempted to raise himself. His skinny legs trembled underneath him and then gave way. He tumbled back down on the couch. A cloud of dust erupted from the confines of the vomit green fabric, tired springs groaning in protest.

"Can you get it for me?" Lovino asked, waving an arm at Antonio emphatically. "Red, please. Under the sink."

Obsequiously Antonio returned with a bottle and a glass, handing them to Lovino, who had sunk down onto the couch, head against the armrest, feet crossed over the opposite one. Eagerly he took the bottle, uncorking it with his teeth. The smell of cheap wine sifted out, permeating the room.

"That doesn't smell like very good wine," commented Antonio, casting a wary glance as Lovino poured the blood-red, pungent liquid into his brimming glass.

"Its horrible wine. But it's cheap, and it works." He took a giant gulp, letting it sift around in his mouth before swallowing it.

"You really shouldn't drink," Antonio forced himself to say, afraid of suffering the wrath of Lovino and his grandfather.

"Your liver's still practically bust, and you have the body mass of a fifteen year-old!"

"Shut up." Lovino threw the cork at Antonio. It bounced off his forehead. He took another gulp and grimaced.

"Stings my throat," he said.

"Then don't drink!"

"No." Lovino searched around himself for something else to throw, but found none and settled for sticking up his middle finger, taking another gulp of the wine with his other hand.

Still unsatisfied but unable to do anything about it, Antonio sat down on the couch beside Lovino.

"It's almost Christmas," he said wearily. "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve."

"Ugh," groaned Lovino, tossing his head back dramatically. "I hate Christmas."

" _What?_ Christmas is like the bestest holiday ever! Full of joy and happiness and eggnog and-"

"And spending twelve hours at church and visiting dead relatives' graves and feeling guilty because you can't afford good presents!" He took another sip of the wine, glaring at Antonio all the while.

"Basically," he stretched, cracking his elbow with a pop, "Christmas sucks if you're poor."

"Oh." Now Antonio felt like a complete ass. "Sorry."

Lovino held out his now-empty glass nonchalantly. "Top me up, will you?"

"Seriously? You just drank a whole glass!"

Lovino said nothing, his arm still stuck out. Antonio sighed, annoyed, and filled the glass halfway.

"More," commanded Lovino. He poured out just a tiny bit of wine. " _More,"_ he urged.

"No," said Antonio defiantly. "You've had enough."

Lovino's eyes narrowed. "Gimme that," he said, and made a grab for the bottle, but Antonio jerked it out of reach.

"I said no! Enough is enough!" reprimanded Antonio, leaning over the edge of the couch, holding the wine bottle by its neck.

"C'mon," Lovino whined. "I haven't had a proper drink since I went to America!"

"And you just got one!"

"It's not a  _proper_ drink until you can't walk straight!"

"Yeah, and you can't even walk! So  _there!"_

"But I  _need_ it!"

"What you need is rest and lots of vitamins!" Antonio got up off the couch, taking the glass from Lovino's hand. "I'm putting this away," he said, and, ignoring Lovino's shouts of complaint, walked back behind the screen, placing the wine under the sink and the glass in the sink.

"Fuck you," spat Lovino upon his return.

Antonio raised his hands passively. "I'm just doing what's best for you."

"You don't know what's good for me.  _I_ know," Lovino stabbed his chest violently with his finger, "What's good for me, and it's alcohol."

"That's the last thing you need. How about a carrot? I'll go get you a carrot," said Antonio, before Lovino could protest.

"I don't want a stupid carrot!" he heard Lovino call after him as he retreated back to the kitchen. He had bought Lovino an array of vegetables while they were at the store the other day, and found it in the fridge. He brought it back to the couch.

"Oh great, something I can shove up your ass," said Lovino.

"Ha, ha," responded Antonio drolly, seating himself on the couch and handing the carrot to Lovino. Angrily he took a bite, then spit it out at Antonio. It hit his cheek then bounced off and onto the couch.

"You're being immature," Antonio told him.

"I don't care. I'm pissed."

"Because I was looking out for your health?"

"Because you're being a prat, that's why."

Antonio sighed and leaned back on the couch. "You're always mad at me for some reason or another anyway, so this doesn't make any difference."

"God, you're a real charmer." Lovino took another bite of his carrot, crunching it loudly and obstinately.

" _You're_ not exactly Prince Charming yourself."

"Still better than you." He crunched on the carrot.

Antonio chuckled. "Yeah, probably." He looked sideways over at Lovino, grinning. Their eyes met and Lovino looked down, cheeks flushed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Antonio loved moments like these, where nothing really funny was happening, yet for some reason they were both giddy with laughter just from being near each other, for existing. It was almost Christmas, and he wanted Lovino to have the best Christmas ever, to not worry about money or food or medicine and to just relax. He wanted to get him the best presents and wake him up at four in the morning to open them, and buy eggnog and ice cream and champagne for him, decorate the drab apartment so it was all done up in red and green tinsel, with mistletoe hanging in every possible spot so he could kiss Lovino in every inch of the apartment, so that the whole dreary place would be filled with love and cheer. He wanted to treat Lovino like a princess-  _his_  princess- and worship him and kiss his pretty little feet and treasure him with gifts and love.

He wanted Lovino to have the best Christmas ever, one that he would remember for the rest of his life, because the very next day, Antonio was leaving.

And Lovino couldn't come with.


	25. Sleep-Talk

Antonio felt guilty for not telling Lovino. It was the right thing to do, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

 _Telling him is better than_ not  _telling him_ , he told himself, but still. It was hard. And Antonio had a tendency to procrastinate.

It was just a three-year ban from America, or travel of any kind, really. His passport had been revoked and all, so there wasn't anything Antonio could do.

 _Except tell him,_ a voice at the back of his mind urged.

 _No. Not now. He's sick now. Later,_ he reprimanded himself. He'd do it later. Tomorrow, maybe.

Thinking about Emma made it easier to envision leaving, because at least there'd be something good waiting for him when he got back. That's why he had to work his hardest to not fall for Lovino during his stay.

But the task he had set for himself seemed almost impossible, when Lovino was barely a couple feet away from him on the other end of the couch, every movement he made reverberating in the springs so that Antonio could feel it too. His hands were probably picking at the lint balls stuck to the fabric of the couch right now, under that gray blanket, feet fidgeting nervously. Every couple of minutes he'd glance up at Antonio, see that he was watching him, flush, and direct his eyes back down to his feet. The whole ritual was so ridiculously adorable that it made Antonio's chest hurt, as if he were the one with pneumonia.

"How you feeling?" he asked, breaking the silence with unease.

"Alright." Lovino looked away. "My head hurts."

"I'm sorry," said Antonio, though it wasn't his fault. "Do you want some aspirin?"

"Just some more wine."

"No way." Lovino began to head off the couch, but Antonio grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

"That's the last thing you need right now," he said. He picked the carrot up again and forced it into Lovino's hand. "Eat your carrot," he commanded.

"I don't wanna," complained Lovino, but he took another bite anyway, glaring at Antonio pointedly as he chewed, making it as loud and wet as possible just to annoy him. He didn't mind, however. Anything to distract himself from the fact that he still owed his friend the truth, and that he didn't really know what the truth was, at this point.

Did he really like Lovino in… that way? And even if he did, even if he admitted it to himself, what would change? He'd still have to leave. It would only make the inevitable more painful for both of them.

Best to bottle up whatever feelings he may have to avoid any possible pain that may come.

* * *

"Lovi?" Antonio knocked on the door to his room. "I'm coming in." When no response was heard, Antonio warily turned the knob and opened the door a slit. Lovino was curled up on his mattress, swaddled in his gray blanket facing the wall. Antonio couldn't tell whether he was awake or asleep and so trod carefully, closing the door silently behind him so as not to wake him.

His bare toes connected with the filthy floor, staining the bottoms of his feet a dirty brown. Disgusted, Antonio lifted his foot and attempted to brush it off before placing it back on the ground again. As he put weight on his right foot, beginning to walk, something pierced the skin and sunk into his flesh.

Antonio bellowed in pain, lifting his foot once more, desperately trying to see what he had stepped on, but just succeeded in overbalancing and falling over. He closed his eyes as the hard floor collided with his skull. When he opened them, Lovino was standing over him.

"Y-You're awake," Antonio managed to say.

"Unfortunately." He squatted down and grabbed Antonio's right ankle, bringing the foot to his face for inspection. Suddenly, without warning, he reached forward and with one smooth, quick stroke, pulled whatever had stabbed him out of his foot. Antonio was too shocked to even cry out.

Silently Lovino tossed the offending object at Antonio, pulled the blanket around himself, and rolled back into his bed, facing the wall.

Antonio picked the object up off his chest where it had fallen. It was a shard of a broken CD, one end covered in a light film of blood. He sat up, seeing with difficulty in the dim room the rest of the CD, broken into tiny pieces and scattered all around the room. He couldn't even see the actual floor; trash, debris, and dirty clothes covered it like a blanket.

"You  _have_ to clean this room," he said aloud.

Lovino grumbled nonsensical words.

"Seriously! There's trash everywhere- is that a  _needle?!"_

"As long as I know where and where not to step I'm fine." grumbled Lovino.

"Yeah, well  _I_ don't! Starting now, we're gonna clean your room." Lovino didn't respond.

"I know you're not asleep," urged Antonio. "You're just staring at the wall."

"Shut up and leave me to my wall-staring."

Antonio ignored him and got up, throwing the blanket off Lovino's frail body. He immediately pulled his limbs to his chest to conserve heat, but didn't move.

"Come on, get up!" said Antonio.

Lovino groaned, but did not move. Antonio grabbed his cold wrist and yanked on his arm, trying to move him, but he yelped in pain and in his panic, Antonio dropped his arm. It fell to the floor limply.

"D-Did that hurt?" he asked, crouching down. "Are you hurt somewhere?"

"Ribs.. 'n back," mumbled Lovino, pulling his arm back to his chest and grabbing the blanket.

"Oh. Right." Antonio hung his head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I-"

"'S fine. Just.. shush."

Antonio reached over, attempting to place his hand on Lovino's forehead to feel his temperature, but Lovino avoided his advances, throwing the blanket over his face.

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Antonio, hushed.

"I cough up blood and everything hurts. Apart from that, fine."

Antonio sucked on his lower lip awkwardly. He wished he could do something, but knew that even if there were some possible way to help his friend, Lovino would just dodge and refuse his assistance. Still, he asked,

"Anything I can do?"

Expecting Lovino to say no, Antonio prepared to leave, but to his surprise, a command issued from his friend's dry lips:

"Yes."

"R-Really? What is it?"

Face still hidden by the blanket, Lovino murmured, "Stay with me 'till I fall asleep."

Antonio felt joy flood his face, smiling so wide he worried it might crack in two. "Okay!" he beamed, voice growing too loud in his eagerness. He saw Lovino flinch underneath the blanket at his abrasiveness, and repeated again, in a whisper, "Okay."

Silently, Antonio kneeled beside the dirty mattress. He couldn't stop himself from fidgeting. He felt as if there were something more that he should do, but couldn't think as to what that was, so he busied himself by tucking in the blanket around Lovino's still form.

As he tucked Lovino in, he stirred slightly. Startled, Antonio pulled back, afraid that he had once again hurt him, but it was just sleep-talk.

Smiling slightly, Antonio brushed sweaty bangs off Lovino's clammy forehead. His hand lingered for a split second too long, and before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned in and kissed Lovino's exposed cheek dotingly. A tiny mumble escaped Lovino's slightly-parted lips, and had Antonio not been so close, he wouldn't have heard it, let alone be able to understand the drowsy words:

"Antonio."

Cold fear ran through Antonio's spine and he jerked away, afraid he had woken Lovino, but he remained peacefully asleep.

Antonio exhaled, relieved. Thank god.

But what had he been  _thinking_ , kissing Lovino like that? It was just on his cheek, and he had jokingly kissed him there before, but never like this. He hadn't even known he was doing it until he pulled away.

A little unnerved, he held a hand to his lips. They still tingled. It was wrong, Antonio knew that, but for some reason, he yearned to do it again, but maybe in a different spot; maybe this time he could finally feel Lovino's lips after months of depraved aching and lusting after him.

No.

No no no no no no no no.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

Antonio shook his head rapidly, his hair flying up and whipping him in the face. Still, even when his vision focused, the last blurs of dizziness leaving him, when he saw Lovino's face- so still, so peaceful, and so impossibly beautiful- the longing returned again.

He blinked, hard, three times, squeezing his eyes shut until they hurt. Still the feel of Lovino's soft skin against his lips mingled as if imprinted upon him; still his sultry, pouty face swam tantalizingly as if tattooed against the backs of his eyelids; still his chest ached with burning desire as if a fire were kindling in his heart and engulfing his whole being with need, passion, lust.

Shakily he rose to his feet, stumbling out the dark room. He had to leave. If he stayed in the tiny apartment any longer he might go insane.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Antonio grabbed his bag and sweatshirt, slamming the door behind him and hurrying down the claustrophobic stairs. He took them two at a time, and five steps before the landing his heel slipped on the worn edge and he tumbled down, his body knocking against the wall painfully. After a minute of dazed staring at the cloud of dust that had emerged and spread through the air from his fall, he managed to pick himself off the floor and continue down the next flight of stairs.

* * *

The cold night air was refreshing, hitting him like a slap in the face as he stepped out into the dark. Apart from the few lights emanating from the tiny windows like cracks in the workers' housing, there was practically no light pollution this far out in the Italian countryside and the stars were visible. Antonio admired them as he walked through the worn-down buildings rising ghost-like out of the darkness. Before even realizing it, his feet had brought him to the gate and cautious, he opened it just wide enough for him to slip through. The whine of the hinges sounded like a cat yowling and he jumped, looking around nervously, but he was alone.

It seemed his feet were separate from the rest of his body, carrying him along the familiar road that led to town without command. As he walked, he gazed upwards at the many stars dotting the sky like pinpricks of light shining through velvet.

 _They're beautiful,_ he thought,  _but not as beautiful as Lovino._

Silently he berated himself for even daring to think such a thought.

"Don't," he whispered to himself. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about him.

Lovino had whispered his name while asleep, hadn't he? Was that normal?

 _Yes,_ he told himself, because it was easiest to assume that and not think on it any more. Friends dream about each other all the time, right? Because they were friends.

 _Not just friends,_ he thought, but corrected himself.  _Best_  friends.

That's all they were. And it was totally normal for friends to dream of each other, to laugh and cry and talk with each other, to want to make the other smile and never be sad again, to want to hug and cuddle and kiss each other and grow old together… that was all normal.

Right?

_Wrong._

* * *

Even though he was outside, surrounded by nothingness, Antonio felt walls were closing in on him from every angle.

Emma's hysterical voice rang through his head painfully: " _When will you realize that you love him more than you ever loved me?!"_

"I don't," Antonio told himself. "I don't. I don't love him." Sweat trickled down his back, even though it was cold outside.

"I  _don't_ love him," he repeated stubbornly, but still the thought chased him. He broke into a run. With every step he reminded himself, alternating between the two phrases that now seemed to encapsulate his very being:

"I."  _Step._ "Don't."  _Step._ "Love."  _Step._  "Him."

"Emma."  _Step._ "And."  _Step._  "Only."  _Step_. "Emma."

* * *

Lovino woke up in the middle of the night. He heard a noise and bolted upright, looking around, but there was only blackness. Relieved, he laid his head back on his pillow, preparing to fall back asleep, but then he heard the sound again.

It was muffled, but high pitched, almost like a whine. He hoped it was just the pipes, but then it formed his name.

" _Lovino."_

He tossed the covers back and crawled on his hands and knees. It was coming from the other side of the screen- Antonio's side.

"Antonio?" he whispered incredulously. Antonio was asleep, blanket tangled around his legs. His breath was uneven, little whimpers and gasps emanating every few seconds. His eyelids twitched spasmodically, alternating between peaceful and then squeezed tight. His brown skin was pallid and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

He was clearly having a nightmare.

"Antonio?" whispered Lovino again, this time a little louder. He shook Antonio's shoulder gently.

Antonio jerked awake, shooting upright, and looking around frantically, his eyes wild.

"Antonio?" asked Lovino, and his lost face swiveled to Lovino's frantically. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then another.

"Lovi?" he breathed, as if he couldn't believe it. One hand reached up to touch Lovino's cheek, almost like he were trying to tell if he were real. "You're okay?" he gasped.

"Uh… yeah..?," answered Lovino, a little distractedly, for Antonio was still caressing his cheek lovingly.

"Bu- But there was so much blood- where did it go?" Antonio's eyes swept Lovino's thin body up and down, searching.

"There's no blood, Antonio," said Lovino softly. "You had a nightmare."

"And the shelf!" Antonio said, seemingly not hearing Lovino. "It fell on you- and the bottle- there was so much blood,  _so much blood.."_ He ran his hands through his hair distractedly, eyes unfocused as if he were seeing something faraway. "Where did it  _go?"_ he queried.

"It didn't go anywhere- there's no blood!"

"But-"

"It was a dream, Antonio," said Lovino sharply. "Just a dream."

"So… so you're okay?"

"Of course I am! I'm  _fine!"_

Antonio blinked once, twice, as if finally beginning to see the truth. Then slowly, his mouth twitched upwards and he began to smile awkwardly, tears leaking out of his eyes and dribbling down his cheeks already wet with sweat.

"Lovi-" he gasped, his other hand reaching up and pulling Lovino to his chest. "You're- you're  _okay!"_

"I know, I know, so get off me already," grumbled Lovino, though he was hugging Antonio back too, albeit a little stiffly. He pulled back.

"Jesus Christ, you're all sweaty and gross."

"Yeah," sniffed Antonio, still smiling and crying at the same time. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine." Lovino climbed onto his mattress. "Move over," he commanded.

"Huh?"

"I'll stay with you 'till you fall asleep," he said. He pulled back the blanket. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You're still in your normal clothes- are you wearing  _shoes?"_

"Oh- yeah," Antonio scratched the back of his head. "I went running earlier, after you fell asleep."

" _Why?"_ Lovino lay down beside Antonio, resting his head on his arm.

"To- to clear my head…" As Antonio lay down next to his friend, his confused face coming into focus, just inches away from his own, he remembered why he had left, why he had run away.

Lovino exhaled a single laugh. "Stupid," he muttered, but his eyes were kind. Antonio began to smile, seeing this, but then faltered, remembering his running mantra:

"I don't love him."

Sensing something, Lovino asked quietly, "What's wrong?" but the concern, the gentleness in his usually harsh voice just made Antonio feel worse.

"You- you should go back to your own bed," he forced himself to say, throat suddenly dry.

Lovino's brow wrinkled. "No," he said. "I'm staying here with you. You just had a nightmare, for fuck's sake."

" _No!"_ It was only after he saw Lovino's shocked expression that Antonio realized he had yelled the word.

"R- Right. Sorry." Lovino clambered off the mattress, suddenly meek.

"Wait- no, I'm sorry," Antonio tried to call after him, but the words became stuck in his throat and he choked on them.

* * *

Lovino scampered past the curtain and back to his mattress, pulling the gray blanket up and over him. Feeling empty, he pulled his pillow to his chest and hugged it. He noticed he was shaking.

Antonio had never raised his voice at him before. He was sometimes loud, and boisterous, but always in a gentle, silly manner. Lovino squeezed the pillow tighter, burying his face in it.

What had he done wrong?

* * *

Antonio knocked his forehead against his knees, hard.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't shake Lovino's shocked, wide-eyed, hurt expression from his mind. How could he have let himself do such a thing, yelling at Lovino?

He hated what he had become- a senseless, wooden being clinging to his last thread of sanity, desperately making a fool of himself, laughing without any meaning behind it, in an attempt to convince himself and others that he was fine.

Maybe it was best that he was leaving Lovino.


	26. Kodak Memories

Lovino awoke once more, this time with a piercing headache. He sat up, rubbing his head when he realized the cause. His teeth were clenched tightly together, his jaw aching. He groaned, pulling his legs up and resting his forehead on his kneecaps.

It was almost Christmas.

He hated Christmas.

* * *

Barefoot, Lovino padded into the kitchen, still drowsy. He poured himself a generous amount of red wine for breakfast before journeying to the couch.

Antonio looked up. "Good morning!" he beamed, though behind the smile he looked guilty. He hadn't been able to sleep after the events of last night, and so had taken it upon himself to walk the six miles to town and back at two in the morning to get supplies to decorate the small apartment in hopes of ingratiating himself once more in the eyes of Lovino. Silently, all night, he had sat crosslegged, making red and green paper chains and hanging them on every free surface.

Lovino scowled. "What'd you do to the place?" he complained. "It looks awful."

"You mean it looks festive?" suggested Antonio.

"No, I mean it looks like Santa Claus shat in here." He sat down heavily on the couch, a droplet of wine spilling out over the side of the glass. He licked it off the side, running his tongue up the glass before taking a sip.

"Seriously? Wine? Already?"

"Shut up."

"At least eat something."

"No." He took another sip of the wine, crossing his long legs.

"Excited for Christmas?" Antonio attempted to create conversation.

"Fuck no."

"Wha- why?"

"Christmas sucks." Lovino stood up, straightening his legs. "I'm gonna shower." Without waiting for Antonio's reply, he stalked off into the bathroom, still clutching his wine.

* * *

He started the shower and brushed his teeth. As he looked up, placing the toothbrush back in the mirrored cabinet, he caught his reflection looking back, framed by steam.

He always hated seeing himself, but today it was worse than usual- dark rings surrounded his weary eyes, and his face was sallow and somber.

He really, really hated Christmas.

He stripped and stepped into the shower, standing there, swaying slightly until he couldn't stand. Then he crouched down in the corner, feeling the shower beat down on him like rain. He remained there even once the hot water tank ran out and the water turned ice-cold and brown.

* * *

He helped his grandfather get dressed, soundlessly. For once he didn't make a scathing comment about Lovino's sexuality. When he finally spoke, it was simply,

"Christmas is tomorrow."

Lovino grunted, buttoning his grandfather's shirt.

* * *

Antonio greeted the two of them as they emerged from Roma's bedroom, but was met with silence. His smile faltered as Lovino ignored him and wheeled his grandfather over to the table, making bland beige porridge for him but eating none himself. They didn't talk, except the occasional mumble in Italian. Antonio watched from afar as Lovino gave Roma his pills and his insulin shot, pricking his finger with blood. They paid him no notice whatsoever.

Finally Roma wheeled himself back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked and Lovino sat back down on the couch, draining his glass of wine tiredly.

"I- I'm sorry," apologized Antonio nervously. "For last night."

Lovino just stared straight ahead, not acknowledging him or his apology at all.

"I found this behind the dresser, cleaning your room," said Antonio, holding out a small glossy Kodak print. It was a picture of two girls, wearing matching outfits.

The taller, and presumably older, girl on the right was scowling at the camera in an unbefitting manner, clutching her skirts angrily as if she wanted to rip them off. Her thin legs were covered in band-aids and bruises, and her short, dark hair had messy ribbons tied in it. She was darker skinned, whereas the girl on the left was much fairer, with honey-colored hair and eyes. The smaller girl whom he took to be the scowling girl's little sister, was smiling innocently at the camera, practically glowing. She seemed to be the only one out of the two of them that were happy to be have had their picture taken. In the background, there was a blurred shape which looked like a hand, reaching out towards the older girl.

"Are these girls your cousins or something?" asked Antonio.

Lovino's face was tinged with embarrassment. "I'm getting another drink," he said, avoiding Antonio's eyes and question by eyeing his empty glass. He promptly stood up, clutching his glass so tight Antonio worried it might shatter in his hands.

Lovino made his way to the counter and poured himself another drink. His hands were shaking so much that wine slopped over the rim of the glass, splattering on the counter and dripping to the floor.

How did that picture still exist? He thought they had all burned a long, long time ago.

"Lovi?" Antonio called from the other side of the screen and Lovino awoke from his reverie. With a start, he realized that he had continued to pour, even when the glass was full, and currently wine was overflowing over the rim of the glass, forming a puddle on the counter and floor.

"C-Coming!" he yelled back, grabbing a paper towel and desperately trying to mop up the mess. He hurried back to the couch, clutching his brimming glass.

"Hey, Lovi?" asked Antonio quietly, and a chill like cold ice ran down Lovino's spine.

"W-What?" he responded, feigning casualness.

"I… er, well, the day after Christmas I'm.. leaving." Lovino relaxed. That was it?

"Yeah, I know," he said. "Thanks for reminding me. I need to pack."

"Pack?" Antonio's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah. I'm coming."

"Wait, Lovi, you-" Antonio began to say, but hesitated. He couldn't crush Lovino's aspirations when he was already in such a bad mood.

"What?" Lovino gulped his wine, a bit spilling out the corner of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He licked it up and then looked at Antonio directly, demanding an answer.

"N- Nothing," he said quickly. He felt his insides squirm unpleasantly, knowing that he was lying to Lovino, but it would be cruel to tell him now and just bring his mood down further.

Selfishly wanting to avoid the subject of leaving, more for his sake than Lovino's, Antonio picked up the photo again.

Even though he had never seen these girls, they looked familiar, somehow.

The one on the right bore an uncanny resemblance to Lovino, almost unsettlingly so. And the girl on the left looked just like a younger Feliciano, but with a skirt.

"This girl looks like you, doesn't she?" Antonio pointed to the scowling girl on the right. Lovino choked on his wine, coughing red all over himself.

"I'm okay," he gasped when Antonio reached out. He waited until he had recovered, and then scooted the photo closer to him.

"Doesn't she, though?" he asked again.

"I don't- I don't see the resemblance," said Lovino quickly.

"Really? She even has the curl in the same place! And the other one, the younger girl, she looks like your little brother."

"N- Nonsense," said Lovino shakily, his eyes slanting away, unable to look Antonio in the face. "This is stupid." He stood up, some wine from his glass spilling out, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He plucked the photo from Antonio's hands and stalked off into his room, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Lovino raked his fingers through his hair anxiously, the photo in front of him. The day was already bad enough to begin with, why did he have to deal with this now too?

"Lovi?" Antonio knocked on the door hesitantly.

"Go away," responded Lovino distractedly, fixated on the picture.

"I need to get my phone."

"Too bad."

"Please?" Antonio's voice, muffled by the thin wood, sounded lost and mournful and even though he wanted to, Lovino couldn't refuse it. Swearing under his breath in Italian, he got up and unlocked the door, swinging it open a crack.

Antonio pushed through and rummaged through his bag for a couple seconds as Lovino sat back down on his mattress, knees pulled to his chest. The picture of the two girls lay flat in front of him.

"Hey." Antonio seated himself on the side of the mattress. It curved under his weight and Lovino began to fall towards him but righted himself.

"Just get your phone and go," he mumbled, looking away.

"I already had it." Antonio pulled his phone out of his pocket for Lovino to see, then put it back. "I just needed you to let me in."

Lovino sighed in disgust.

"So how you doing?" Antonio pressed.

"Fine," replied Lovino curtly.

"Really? 'Cause it doesn't seem like that."

"I  _said_  I'm fine!" snarled Lovino.

"Is it because of last night?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because I am sorry, I really am. I never meant to yell, I just-"

"It's not about that!"

"Then what is it?!"

Lovino wrapped his thin arms around his knees, hugging them closer to his chest. Unable to meet Antonio's eyes, he said,

"Look, it's none of your business, okay? So just- just leave me alone." His voice cracked slightly.

"You're right that it's none of my business. But I can't just leave you alone. Not like this." Antonio attempted to place a hand on Lovino's shoulder, but he flinched as if wounded and quickly he pulled back.

"Sorry," he apologized, but Lovino shook his head, biting his lower lip. Antonio's eyes fell on the picture of the two girls, attracted by the glossy reflection.

"Is it because of the photo?" he tried, and Lovino's shoulders tensed.

"I'm sorry I had you look at it," Antonio said again. "I just thought you might've found it interesting or something."

Lovino tsked irritatedly, looking away. Antonio knew his bad mood was his fault, so it was also his duty to cheer Lovino up, or at least distract him from whatever was troubling him.

He stood up, holding his hand out for Lovino.

"C'mon," he said. "Let me take you out to lunch."

Lovino stared at him in surprise, then slowly his arm reached out. Antonio grabbed his hand and pulled him upright. He wobbled for a moment, legs shaky, but managed to right himself.

"Alright?" Antonio asked.

Lovino looked down at himself momentarily. Staring at his feet, he answered, "Yeah."

* * *

Antonio made sure Lovino was bundled up warmly, wearing a sweater, Antonio's coat, scarf, hat, and gloves before heading out, even though it was only forty-something degrees outside. Winter in southern Italy was not that cold, thankfully.

As they walked side-by-side down the dirt road leading out of the fields, they passed a few other workers also on their way to town. Most were silent but reproachful, but one whom Antonio recognized as the one who had fainted on their first day there spat at Lovino as they passed. It landed by his feet.

Lovino faltered, his gloved hands clenching, but continued marching on, albeit a little stiffer than before.

"Jesus, what's his deal?" grumbled Antonio, his hand hovering behind the small of Lovino's back but not touching him.

Lovino directed his attention towards his feet, kicking a small pebble with every step as they walked. His gray sneakers were shabby, the tops scuffed. The sole was slowly separating from the body of the shoe, flapping slightly, and there was a hole in the side of his right shoe, through which his bare foot was slightly visible. He was not wearing socks, and his bare ankles were visible, his jeans a couple inches too short but still too big around the waist so he was constantly pulling them up.

"Oh! Lovi!" exclaimed Antonio, and he looked up, just to see him sink down on his knee in front of him.

"Your shoelace is untied," he explained, and began to tie Lovino's shoe for him.

Lovino felt his face grow hot from beneath the scarf and unconsciously he held a hand to his mouth. He was oddly touched, even though it was just a simple, yet intimate gesture.

Antonio straightened up, smiling benevolently. "Ready?" he asked, and began to walk again. Frozen, almost forgetting where he was and why, his head full of Antonio, it was a moment before Lovino remembered and jogged to catch up with his friend.

* * *

"So where do you wanna go?" asked Antonio as they arrived on the outskirts of town. Lovino shrugged.

"Anywhere is fine." They passed a small bar. There were two men smoking in folding chairs too small for them out front.

"Nice legs, sweetheart!" the one on the left called out, smoke wafting out their mouth. Lovino flinched as if the words had hit him like a bullet, beginning to walk a little faster. Not understanding what was happening, Antonio jogged to keep up with him.

 _"Fighetta!_  Ditch darky and come have a smoke with us!"

Lovino stopped dead in his tracks, causing Antonio to almost run into him. Slowly he shook the hood of his sweatshirt away from his face.

The two men burst into raucous laughter. The one on the left laughed so hard he fell out of his chair and continued, on the ground, clutching his stomach.

"Shit! It's a dude!" gasped the one of the right, slapping his knee.

"Pretty faggy looking guy, though," the one on the left said, righting his chair and seating himself once more, still chuckling. Lovino's face flushed red and he quickly made a rude gesture before pulling his hood up again. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to walk, his head bowed.

"What was that?" asked Antonio, trying desperately to keep up with Lovino.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"Really? It seemed like they were laughing. Do you know them?"

"No!" said Lovino forcefully. He chewed his lip. "They- they thought I was a girl, so they.." He trailed off.

"You mean they hollered at you?" Antonio began to laugh.

"Stop it!" hissed Lovino, elbowing Antonio in the ribs. "It's not funny, turdbrain!"

"Sorry, I just…" giggled Antonio. "You do sort of look like a girl though."

"I do not!"

"No, you kinda do! You know, you're all skinny, and you have those long legs and slender hands; plus your skin's really smooth- do you use lotion or something?- and you walk like a woman, too."

"It's not bad or anything," Antonio said hastily, seeing Lovino's angry yet embarrassed expression. "In fact, it looks good. I like it. It suits you."

Lovino sniffed contemptuously, folding his arms over his chest like a bossy mother.

"Really, it does," appeased Antonio. "In fact, its what first attracted me to you." It was only after he had said it that he realized the implications of his words.

"I- I mean," he rushed to correct himself, "You look good like that, all androgynous."

"Andro… what?" Lovino's brow furrowed in adorable confusion.

"Androgynous," explained Antonio. "It means that you look like both a boy and a girl at the same time." Lovino lowered his head, blushing furiously.

"How is that a good thing?" he muttered.

"It is! Lots of people find that look attractive- myself included." Lovino's mouth opened and then shut again, his face flushing an even darker color. Antonio grinned, a sense of accomplishment running through him like adrenaline. He reached over and attempted to ruffle Lovino's hair, but before his hand had barely even made contact with his head Lovino reached up and slapped him away as if he already knew what he was planning. Antonio giggled, putting his hand back in his pocket.

They stopped in front of a fast food chain which Antonio didn't recognize. Spizzico's, it was called, and cautiously he stepped in after Lovino, the heat of the deep fryer hitting him like a slap in the face. The whole placed smelled of an unappetizing combination of sweat, oil, and tomato sauce.

"I used to work here," explained Lovino, grabbing Antonio's arm and leading him to the counter. "You're paying, right?"

It took a moment for Antonio to comprehend what he had said, and then another moment to actually reply, for Lovino's slender fingers were still wrapped around his wrist and slowly, but surely, sliding down closer to his hand and once more, as like all the other times, Antonio found himself stunned into inaction.

"Y-Yeah," he managed finally.

"Great." Lovino turned to the cashier, speaking in Italian. She nodded, adding up the price. Antonio was shocked into full consciousness when he saw the price: 19 euros.

"Wha..?" He turned to Lovino, thinking maybe there was a mistake, but he saw that Lovino was smirking, a strange glint in his eyes.

"What are you  _buying?!"_  he asked, desperately rifling through his pockets.

"Enough food for the rest of the week," explained Lovino cooly, biting his lip to prevent himself from smiling. "You said you'd pay, right?"

Amused, he watched Antonio's confusion and desperation like a cat toying with its prey. After a while, though, he began to take pity on him.

"Just one pizza," he told the befuddled cashier, and the price dropped rapidly. Antonio breathed a sigh of relief and managed to find enough money to pay.

* * *

"That was  _mean,_  Lovi!" he whined, carrying the food to their table.

"It was also very funny." Lovino slid into the plastic seat opposite Antonio, crossing his legs slyly.

"But we  _are_  out of food at home," he added quickly, as Antonio lifted a slice to his mouth. "So don't eat a lot. We need it to last."

"Wuzzat?" Antonio asked, already stuffing the last bit of crust in his mouth.

"I said, don't eat too much! We need this to last until Saturday."

"Buh i's Tuesday!" complained Antonio thickly through a mouth full of pizza.

"Exactly. So don't stuff yourself, shitdick."

"Shitdick? That's a new one." Antonio peeked through his bangs up at Lovino.

"Yeah, I thought of it this morning. I'm rather proud of it." Lovino eyed the pizza hungrily but didn't eat anything.

"Aren't you gonna eat any?" asked Antonio, licking the grease from his fingers.

Lovino shook his head. "I gotta save it for Roma."

Antonio slurped his drink calmly, but inside he was raging. Why should Lovino slave away and take nothing for himself for this old man who gave him nothing in return? Why did Lovino feel the need to starve, to work himself to death for someone who would never appreciate him? It made him angry to no extent, and even angrier when Lovino, one of the stubbornest, most strong-willed and foulmouthed persons Antonio knew, would constantly bend over backwards for someone who had betrayed him.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked quietly.

"Cup," said Lovino simply, nodding to Antonio's right hand. He looked down. His right hand was clenching the paper cup of soda so tight it had crumpled in upon itself, the cap fallen off. His shirt sleeve was wet with cola.

"I- " he mumbled, confused, staring at his hand intently as if it might offer an explanation. "I'll go get some napkins," he said, and left the table.

* * *

Silently they walked back home. Antonio had managed to convince Lovino to at least eat two slices of the pizza, leaving four pieces for his grandfather. It was only five pm, but the sun had begun to set, sending glowering vermillion streaks across the fading pink sky.

Antonio shivered, blowing on his hands to warm them up. Lovino eyed him guiltily from the side. Antonio had lent him his gloves.

"Here," said Lovino, pulling off his right glove and handing it to Antonio, who was walking next to him on his right side.

Antonio stared at it reproachfully.

"Go on," urged Lovino. "I'm fine. Really."

Reluctantly Antonio reached out and took it, placing it on his right hand. "Thanks," he mumbled embarrassedly.

After a couple minutes of more silent walking, Antonio glanced back at Lovino, who was rubbing his bare hand against his gloved one, blowing on them. He looked down at his own left hand, hanging limply by his side, and then back to Lovino's.

Lovino caught him looking. "What?" he snapped, following Antonio's gaze to his hand.

"Seriously?" he raised an eyebrow cynically.

"Well, I mean,  _your_  hand is cold, and  _my_  hand is cold, so might make sense to.. you know..?"

Lovino sighed in disgust. "Fine," he agreed eventually, and held out his right hand. Taken by surprise, Antonio just stared at it, unsure if this was real or a dream.

"Are we gonna or not?!"

"Uh," was all Antonio managed to say. Slowly his hand inched towards Lovino's. He hesitated.

 _Think of Emma_ , he urged himself, but Emma was then and Lovino was now and his hand was cold and they were on a whole different continent where Emma would never have to know if they maybe held hands for just a _teensy tiny_  bit of time...

"Jesus fucking Christ, do I have to do everything by myself?" complained Lovino, and grabbed onto Antonio's hand.

Antonio could feel Lovino's slender, cool fingers on top of his own rough ones, and suddenly the cold didn't seem as prominent or as powerful; instead, a great bubbling warmth grew inside of him, leading from Lovino's fingertips and infecting his whole body.

Shocked, but also pleased at Lovino's initiative, Antonio turned to his friend beside him. His cheeks and ears were flushed red, perhaps from the cold, but something told him that the cold wasn't the cause.

Lovino looked up, his eyes connecting with Antonio's. Quickly Antonio forced himself to look away.

"What?" demanded Lovino. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Sorry," he apologized automatically, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. "I'm just happy, that's all."

He squeezed Lovino's hand momentarily, hearing a little gasp. Quickly he glanced back at Lovino but he looked down, burying his face in his scarf. The tops of his ears were red.

"Stupid," he muttered from within the confines of the scarf, but his eyes were smiling.


	27. Mustard Footprints

Lovino led Antonio up the narrow stairway, arm bent awkwardly behind him. Antonio couldn't tell if Lovino had honestly just forgot that they were holding hands, or if he was actually willing to go to such extent just so they could prolong their fleeting touch. Finally they reached the third floor and after a couple tries Lovino managed to find the lock in the dim light and unlock the door. It swung open with a creak and they stepped inside, hands still connected.

" _Nonno!_ " called Lovino. "I got you  _Spizzico's!_ "

The door of the old mans room slammed open and he wheeled himself out. Lovino shook the dangling plastic bag containing the leftovers jauntily, but his attentions were directed elsewhere. His face blotched red with anger and contorted grotesquely, a purple vein bulging from his forehead.

"What?" asked Lovino, following his line of sight down to his hand, intertwined with Antonio's.

His face turned red, then white and he forcefully pulled away, but not quick enough.

"I- I can explain," he said hurriedly. "Really. It's not-"

"I don't want to listen to  _excuses_ anymore." Slowly, painfully, Roma lifted himself out of his wheelchair, leaning dangerously on his cane. Even though he was tottering forward at the speed of a turtle, his thin legs shaking underneath him, it was an intimidating sight.

The plastic bag Lovino had been holding dropped to the ground as his arm went slack.

"'It wasn't me,' 'I didn't do that,' 'It's Feliciano's-'" Roma imitated Lovino in a high pitched, girly voice.

"You always tell-  _lies!_ You always-" he gasped for air, "-always make  _excuses!"_

The cane wobbled underneath his white-knuckled grasp and Lovino rushed forward to catch him but he did not fall.

"Sit down,  _please,"_  begged Lovino. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Don't touch me, you- you-" Roma smacked him away impatiently. He continued to advance slowly towards Lovino, who, with every step his grandfather took, backed away closer to the door which had shut behind him.

"I will not have you…  _homosexualizing_ under my roof, you hear?! I won't allow it! So- so take your fag  _boyfriend_  and leave!"

"I'm not going to leave,  _Nonno,_ just-"

"Don't call me ' _Nonno!'"_ snapped Roma. "You're not my grandson!"

"No, no- you're mistaken, I  _am_ your grandson, I'm Lovino Vargas-" babbled Lovino desperately, his voice cracking. He kept reaching out to his grandfather but always getting slapped away as if he were something disgusting. His face was contorted into a crude, false smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched incessantly and tears were welling up in the rims of his eyes.

"I know no Lovino Vargas," spat Roma. "Just Lavinia."

Lovino paused, shocked into inaction. Finally he managed to say, jaw trembling, "I- I'm not! Not anymore- that's all over- so please,  _please,_ just sit-" He pulled the wheelchair out towards his grandfather pleadingly, attempting to push him down into it but he was just slapped away.

"You can't let your blood pressure go up!" begged Lovino. "Just sit, and we can discuss this-"

"I will  _not!"_  cried Roma, beard shaking. "You can't- ca-" The cane underneath him fell to the ground, clattering. It sounded, in a grotesque, obscene way, like great, booming laughter. The old man's hands went slack, his eyes rolling back in his head as he began to keel over backwards.

" _Nonno!"_ Lovino's scream filled the room, and in that moment his shrill, panicked voice sounded like that of a child. He and Antonio both rushed forward and managed to catch his limp body. He was heavier than expected, perhaps even heavier than his own grandson, and with difficulty they dragged him into his wheelchair.

Breathing heavily to the point of almost hyperventilation, Lovino felt all around him, checking for a pulse, heartbeat, a single breath.

"What… what just happened?" Antonio heard himself say. Lovino didn't answer, ear to Roma's mouth.

"Call 112," said Lovino, rubbing his face with hands as if he could rub it off, grow a new one.

"O- Okay." Antonio rushed over to the telephone, perched on the kitchen counter. He paused. It was an old rotary phone, like the ones in old movies. It had to be thirty years old at least, and he had no idea how to use it.

"Lovi?" he called. "How do I use the phone?"

"You just turn the dial!"

Antonio turned it, and then with a whirring noise, it clicked back into place. He jumped. "It won't-" He turned around, to call out to Lovino, but he was right behind him, marching up to the phone. He shoved Antonio out the way, furiously dialing. He held it to his ear, and talked in Italian for about a minute or so, then slammed it down into the receiver.

"An ambulance is coming," he said, "But they won't be able to get inside the gate and up here. We gotta bring him out to them."

* * *

Huffing with effort, Antonio carried the old man on his back down the three flights of stairs. Lovino was waiting for him with the wheelchair at the bottom. Gratefully he plopped the body into the chair and Lovino wheeled him out the door, his grandfather's head bobbing sickly on his limp neck as the wheelchair ran across the bumpy dirt.

Tight-lipped, Lovino approached the ambulance at the gate, the red and blue lights flashing and shining on his dark skin. His grandfather was loaded into the back, and Lovino hoisted himself up as well. Antonio followed after a moment's hesitation, not sure if he was allowed in the ambulance or not.

He sat down beside Lovino, casting a wary glance at him. He was holding himself stiffly, eyes staring straight ahead, blank and glassy. The engine revved and the car began to move, bouncing them on the plastic bench attached to the side of the car.

Lovino slumped forward, head in his hands. His body was still bouncing, rocking with the movement of the car.

"This is all my fault," he muttered, voice shaky. Antonio couldn't tell if it was because of the car or just overwhelming emotion. He attempted to place a hand on Lovino's hunched back, but he shook him off violently, lifting his head just enough so Antonio could see the anger and hurt in his blazing eyes.

"Don't touch me!" he spat. "That's what- what caused-" He buried his face in his hands once more. His fingers, ridged through his hair, dug into his scalp with his nails as if he were attempting to pull his face off. Tufts of soft dark brown hair fell out between his fingers, landing on his lap and the yellow floor of the ambulance, tainted with brown footprints from his dirty sneakers.

"It's not your fault," said Antonio quietly, attempting to comfort him. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I know it's not your fault."

"It  _is!_ I made him angry, and if he gets angry his blood pressure goes up and-" he gasped for air, beginning to hyperventilate.

"Lovi, calm down," commanded Antonio, assuming a false air of authority in the hopes that it might persuade Lovino to calm down, but if anything, it seemed to make him worse.

"It's all my fault," he repeated listlessly, tears welling up in his eyes.

Lovino clutched at his grandfather's limp, outstretched hand desperately. He was slumped over so far it was against his forehead, and slow, fat tears dripped from his eyes to the mustard floor of the ambulance, leaving wet clean tracks in his muddy footprints.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to his unconscious grandfather in Italian. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I failed you. I'm sorry."

The car stopped with a jolt and Lovino slid off the seat, but corrected himself. He wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, following the nurses limply into the hospital. His head swayed back and forth on his slack neck, yet he walked stiffly. He looked almost like a zombie from a bad horror movie.

Apprehensively Antonio followed. The smell of antiseptic and vomit, combined with the hundreds of beepings from monitors, all out of sync it seemed, and the constant blur of the rushing nurses and doctors, made him feel ill and dizzy.

Finally Roma's stretcher was carted into a room. The door shut in Lovino's face and he stood there, swaying, for almost a minute until he managed to sit down, leaning against the beige wall. Antonio squatted down beside him.

"Alright?" he asked. Lovino didn't answer, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them hopelessly.

"I did this," he said tearfully. "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault!" Antonio exploded. He could feel inappropriate anger welling up inside of him and though he tried, he couldn't suppress it.

"Roma passed out because of his own pigheadedness! I didn't really understand what was happening, or what you guys were yelling about, but I do know that whatever it was,  _he_ was the one that started it, not you!"

"Yeah, but I provoked it!"

"By what?! By being yourself?!"

"By betraying God! By acting on my- my feelings and not His will, by being what I am!"

"What's so bad about that?!" argued Antonio. "You are what-  _who_ \- you are, and no one can change that, least of all Roma! He thinks he can- can  _beat_ it out of you or something- well, he can't! He's being horrible and you just accept it-  _why?"_

"Because I don't want him to die!" cried Lovino, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I already made him sick, I already ruined the crops and cursed the farm- I don't want to cause even  _more_  damage because of my.. sickness!"

"You're not  _sick!"_ insisted Antonio. "You're  _you!_ What's so wrong about that?"

"Everything, if it hurts others! I've already done so much- Roma, the crops,  _Mamma-"_

"Since when do crops have to do with anything?!"

"A-After Feli told, and Roma got sick, the crops- there was a disease, some sort of grape virus. Harvest was bad and the farm lost a lot of money, so they laid a bunch of people off, and it was all my fault, because I made God angry!"

Antonio leaned back against the wall, hands on his head. "So  _thats_ why the farmers all hate you," he realized. He reached out and patted Lovino on the back.

"It's not your fault," he said simply.

Lovino buried his face in his hands. "I just- I just don't want him to die," he sobbed, voice muffled. "If I kill him too, I'll-"

" _Too?"_ interrupted Antonio, but his question was never answered, for the door swung open and a nurse stepped out.

"He's awake," she said, to the grief-stricken Lovino. "You can come in now." He nodded, getting up eagerly and wiping his face vigorously on his sleeve until it was red and shiny, no trace of tears left.

"I'll go get us some coffee," said Antonio, knowing he shouldn't intrude. Lovino nodded his thanks and stepped in, the white door closing behind him.

* * *

"He's fine," the nurse whispered in his ear. "Just a little shock. As long as his blood pressure doesn't go up any more, he'll be alright." Tightlipped, yet still relieved, Lovino nodded, making his way to the bed slowly, cautiously. The old man's head lifted, wobbling on his thin stalk of a neck. He looked almost like an alien from a bad movie- withered, his normally dark skin pale, complexion almost translucent; with purple veins, age spots, and tubes covering the rest of his visible skin.

Lovino stopped at the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, hanging his head. He couldn't seem to look Roma in the eyes. There was no response.

"I- I'm sorry," tried Lovino again, this time a little louder. His grandfather merely  _tsk_ ed in disgust, turning his head away as if he couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

"Really, I am!" persisted Lovino emphatically. "I won't anymore- it was all a mistake! I promise! I-"

"Get out." Roma's voice was quiet, yet seemed deafening, echoing around the sparse walls.

"But-"

" _Get out!"_ He pulled back the covers, apoplectic with rage.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," said the nurse quietly.

"And I'm not fucking going!" exploded Lovino, the anger that he had suppressed the last two years finally bubbling over and overflowing. The hurt and pain from being rejected by his grandfather that first time two years ago still hadn't left him and he couldn't bear the thought of being dragged out yet again. "He's my grandfather- I'm not leaving!"

"You're no grandson of mine!" roared Roma, the monitor beeping dangerously fast, jagged slopes of green LED pulsing on the screen.

"Please, sir," begged the nurse. "His blood pressure is going up again!" She grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him from the room, but Lovino just wrestled it away impatiently, accidentally striking her across the face in the process.

"Security!" she screamed, clutching her reddened cheek. " _Security!"_

Two burly guards rushed in, their boots thumping against the linoleum like a heartbeat.

"Him  _again?"_  one of them grumbled, and each took one of Lovino's arms, beginning to pull him away.

His scuffed sneakers left screeching trails against the floor as he pressed in with his heels, trying to fight the guards, but despite all his kicking and biting and screaming, he was too weak to make much difference. With little effort, the guards managed to drag his emaciated body from the room, dumping him unceremoniously once they had closed the door.

"You gotta stop doing this, man," said one of them.

Breathing heavily, Lovino spat on his shiny black boots before turning and running away.

* * *

As he fled from the hospital, he ran past Antonio, knocking into his shoulder, causing him to almost drop the two coffees.

"Whoa- hey! Lovi!" he exclaimed, grappling to put the lids back on, but he had already disappeared out the entrance. Still clutching the two styrofoam cups of coffee, the heat burning into his hand, he chased after him.

A couple feet from the entrance he slowed, then stopped. It was pitch black outside, and Lovino was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't even known which direction he was going, and could barely see apart from the small patches of light from the lamps leading up to the hospital and passing cars.

Sighing, still clutching the coffees, Antonio set off to look for Lovino.

* * *

 

Almost an hour later, in the middle of an empty field, surrounded by barbed wire fencing, Antonio muttered to himself, "How did I get here?"

He seemed to be far away from the road, as he heard no cars nor saw any light apart from the stars. He had found them pretty the night before, twinkling benevolently, but now they seemed to be laughing, jeering at him and he raised his middle finger up towards them. Seeing only the silhouette of his fist and middle finger, edges illuminated by stars, he suddenly felt foolish, idiotic to be flipping off balls of gas millions of miles and years away that had no consequence to him.

Groaning, he continued to walk, hearing only the crunch of dead grass under his shoes. A couple hundred yards later, however, his foot fell on something else, creating a gravely, knocking sound. He lifted his foot, unsure if he had really heard it, and stamped again, harder on the spot, producing the same sound. It was rock.

He squatted down, placing the coffees on the ground and fishing his phone from his pocket, using it to illuminate the spot.

It was a gravestone, a flat stone marker placed on the ground.

 _Asunta Campagnolo_ , it read.  _1863-1937._

A little guiltily, Antonio jumped off it, hearing the crunch of grass once more. He took another step backwards, clutching the coffees, and almost tripped over another gravestone, this one an actual marker that stuck up from the ground. He felt around. It seemed oval shaped, the stone rough.

He had landed himself in a graveyard. At night. And he was deathly afraid of ghosts.

Quickly he set the coffees down and pulled his phone out of his pocket again, turning it on to use as a light.  _7% battery_ , it read, flashing red.  _Turning off in 3.. 2.."_

He stuffed it back in his pocket, clutching the coffees so hard the styrofoam crunched.

"This is the worst," he said aloud. Something fell on his shoulder and he jumped, crying out in surprise. Then something else landed, on the top of his nose, then the crown of his head, then too many to count. It was raining.

"Seriously?!" he yelled at the sky, but just got water in his eyes. "Godammit," he muttered, beginning to walk again, excruciatingly slow, lifting his legs high with every step. He had the strange idea that a skeletonic hand might poke out from the now wet earth and grab his ankle, or that he'd suddenly feel a breath on the back of his neck or a ghostly hand on his shoulder, but nothing happened, and that was even worse in a way, because then he was constantly expecting it.

And so he trod on, tense, dripping, and irritated. Through the thick pattering of the rain, he thought he heard a voice and almost screamed, but then there was silence once more and he decided it was just his overactive imagination. A couple yards further, and he heard a sound again.

"It's all your fault!" it was yelling, for some reason, in English.

"M-Me?" said Antonio, so astonished at the fact that a ghost was speaking English at him in the middle of an empty Italian graveyard that he was strangely not afraid. It didn't answer, and kept yelling, as if it hadn't heard.

"All the- the dresses and ribbons and  _L-Lavinia_ -ing and shit! You made me like this!  _You_ made me-" and then it broke off, suddenly. Antonio thought he heard a sob, but couldn't be sure.

Stunned, he stood there, the rain beating down on his head and shoulders.

"Why couldn't I have just been a boy, like I was supposed to?! Why'd you have to make me a girl!? Why couldn't I have just been  _normal?!"_

Antonio frowned. As he neared the source of the noise, the voice sounded suspiciously like Lovino's.

"You fucking  _bitch!"_

There was no doubt about it. It had to be Lovino. No one else could swear so eloquently, so full of spite. He wondered if he should approach him, but had a feeling Lovino didn't want to be approached. He must have chosen to speak in English specifically so that any passerby wouldn't be able to understand him.

Antonio knew he should leave Lovino alone, that it was the right thing to do, but curiosity rooted his feet to the ground and he stood silently, listening.

"You fu-fucki-" There were several progressively heavy thumps that sounded like blows on stone.

"Why didn't you just abort me when you had the chance?!" sobbed Lovino. "You always said you wanted to!" There was another thump.

"Not being born at all would've been better than being born a  _mistake!"_ Lovino's voice rang out from amongst the gravestones, so painfully desperate and full of hurt that Antonio couldn't bear to just stand and listen quietly any longer.

Carefully he followed the sound of Lovino's sobs, growing louder with each step. Finally he found him, curled up on his side, sobbing, underneath a gravestone. He could barely see him, just his silvery silhouette, shaking tearfully.

He sat down beside him, leaning against the gravestone. Wet mud squelched as he sat down, soaking the seat of his pants, but he didn't really care.

"Hey," he said simply. Lovino said nothing, continued to cry silently, covered in mud.

"Want some coffee?" he asked, holding out one white styrofoam cup. It was the only thing fully visible in the darkness. He got no response.

Antonio sighed, setting down the cups in the mud. He felt around until he found Lovino's wet, quaking shoulder, and rubbed it.

His friend crying silently beside him, Antonio stared blankly up at the jeering stars. He raised his middle finger.

* * *

_As you may have guessed, Roma in this story is Rome, but modern Rome rather than Ancient Rome, hence his old age and sickness. In Ancient Rome, homosexuality was not criminalized as long as said persons were wealthy. It was fairly typical for a rich man to court a young boy along with other women, and sodomy was acceptable so long as you were the penetrator, not the person being penetrated, which was regarded as feminizing and degrading._

_Modern Rome, which is Roma in this story, is quite homophobic. Rome today is sometimes called the 'capital of gay murders.' Laterano Street, which is often referred to as 'Gay Street,' is often subject to its inhabitants being beaten, insulted, or even bombed. A 2012 homophobia survey in Rome revealed that 55% of the people interviewed believe that LGBTQIA people are discriminated against in Italy._

_Thank you for reading._


	28. The Theology of the Male Form

Antonio helped Lovino up the stairs. He watched as he fiddled with the lock, wooden, finally managing to unlock it.

Roma's cane was still on the floor. Lovino stared at it a moment before taking off his shoes. His bare feet left wet footprints behind him as he padded into his room, grabbed a dry pair of clothes, and then walked into the bathroom. A couple seconds later Antonio heard the shower start up.

He busied himself making a pot of coffee while Lovino washed. As it gurgled away, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what he heard. Lovino's tortured voice swirled around in his mind.

"Why couldn't I have just been a boy, like I was supposed to?! Why'd you have to make me a girl!?" he had cried. What did that mean? Was he transgender or something?

Antonio's memory flicked back to that picture of the two little girls. They were the spitting image of Lovino and his brother. Could it be that the girls in the picture were actually the two brothers?

The coffee finished and he poured out two mugs. There was no milk, but he did find some sugar packets. He ripped one open, the grains spilling out into his drink, and on accident, he also dropped a portion of the paper wrapper. He reached in and fished it out, burning his fingers in the process. Swearing, he ran them under the tap, by now unfazed by the initial spray of dirty brown.

From inside the bathroom he heard Lovino swear violently and quickly he turned off the tap.

"Sorry!" he yelled over the noise of the running water. Lovino grumbled something incoherent, but remained in the shower.

It was almost a full twenty minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in a clean set of clothes, toweling his hair furiously.

"Sorry," apologized Antonio again, hiding his smile behind a sip of coffee. Lovino harrumphed, water droplets dripping down his face, neck, and back.

"Hey," he said, before Lovino could disappear into his room. "Are you transgender?"

"Huh?" Lovino frowned, the towel falling from his head and onto his shoulders. "What's that?"

"Never mind," said Antonio quickly. Lovino stared at him for a moment longer before traipsing into his room and closing the door behind him. As always, the lock clicked and he figured he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

He stretched out luxuriously, yawning. It was around 1 in the morning, according to his watch.

"It's Christmas," he realized aloud.

* * *

 

He opened his eyes, the light hitting his retinas painfully. His nose itched. He reached up to scratch it, but found instead glossy cardpaper instead of skin. Frowning, his eyes crossing in an attempt to see what was on his nose, he sneezed and the offending object flew up just briefly enough for him to see that it was a playing card.

"Oh. You're up," stated Lovino. He sounded disappointed.

"Yeah." Antonio scratched his nose. Lovino was kneeling beside him, on the floor. He lifted his head slightly and saw, with amazement, that a card pyramid had been built over his torso.

"What are you doing?" he croaked. Lovino placed two cards, ends touching, over the base of the card pyramid he had built.

"Making a card pyramid. Try not to breathe."

"Uh," he said, and the pyramid collapsed, cards scattering all over him, the couch, and the floor.

Lovino clucked his tongue in disgust. "Useless," he muttered, and began to collect the cards.

Antonio sat up, still sleepy. His stomach growled. "Happy Christmas," he mumbled, rubbing the sleep-dust from his eyes. He heard Lovino groan as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up, the remaining cards falling off him and onto the floor.

"'M gonna shower," he muttered, mostly to himself, and tottered off into the bathroom. As he removed his jeans, caked with dried mud, one card fell out and to the chilled floor. It must have gotten stuck in his waistband, and as Antonio bent over to pick it up, he saw which one it was:

The Joker.

Laughing, almost cynically, he placed it on top of the toilet and started the shower.

* * *

 

For breakfast they shared the remains of yesterday's pizza. Its texture and taste were akin to that of rubber. Antonio gulped it down with coffee. Lovino just had wine. They didn't speak about, or acknowledge, the events of last night.

"My flight's tomorrow morning," said Antonio hoarsely. "8:20."

Lovino nodded, sipping his wine. "I'll pack this afternoon."

Antonio took a large gulp of coffee to hide his discomfort. He  _had_ to tell Lovino, it was burning a hole in him, but for some reason whenever he opened his mouth, no words came out. It was fairer, and kinder, to tell him before so as not to crush his hopes at the last minute, but he was already so depressed he felt it would be similarly cruel to ruin his day further.

Lovino's knuckles were bruised, dried blood and ripped ribbons of skin entertaining his hand. Antonio assumed that the thumps he had heard last night were him punching something, presumably the gravestone he had been curled up under. It had been too dark to see the name, but he had a feeling he already knew who it was.

"Wanna go out for a bit?" suggested Antonio, hoping maybe he could raise Lovino's mood. "Visit Roma?"

Lovino's grip tightened around his glass. "He doesn't want to see me," he said, voice strained.

"Right." Antonio looked down, ashamed. "Sorry."

"About last night-" he blurted, then stopped. "Do you want to talk about it?" He picked at the cheese on his pizza to distract himself, unable to look Lovino in the eye.

Lovino sipped his wine coolly, though his face was flushed with embarrassment. "There's nothing to talk about," he told Antonio.

"Oh. Um. Okay." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Is there anything you wanna do today? You know, since it's Christmas?"

"I hate Christmas."

"I know, but isn't there anything I can do that might make it better for you?" Lovino shook his head morosely.

"What about something that you always wanted for Christmas? Like, crackers, or a tree-"

"I always.." Lovino stopped himself, embarrassed. He shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. "It's stupid."

"No, no, I want to hear," cajoled Antonio.

"I- I always wanted a tree. You know, the sort with all the lights and baubles and shit."

"I- It's stupid, I know," he said quickly, seeing Antonio's face. "I just never had one growing up."

"It's not stupid at all! It's pretty cute, actually," comforted Antonio, reaching over the table to ruffle Lovino's hair affectionately, but Lovino flinched automatically as his hand moved closer, muscles tensing, arms raising to cover his head. Antonio paused.

"I- I wasn't going to hurt you," he said carefully, withdrawing his arm. Lovino's eyes opened. He blinked twice, taking in the surroundings as if he had just noticed them.

"Sorry," he said quietly, his hands lowering.

"Don't worry about it," said Antonio casually, but inside he was disturbed.

Surely Lovino knew he would never hurt him, right?

He had noticed Lovino flinching or tensing whenever someone moved too quickly, tried to touch him, or even just raised their voice, but never so obvious as he had just now. Antonio had always just assumed it was one of his many nervous tics, yet now he wasn't so sure.

Lovino seemed to be feeling uneasy too, for he spoke in a rush,

"It's just a tree- it's really stupid. Forget I said anything." He stood up abruptly, the chair knocking over.

"I should- I should get to my prayers," he said, and hurried into his room.

"What about the Christmas tree?" Antonio called after him, the door slamming and locking in his face.

"Fuck the tree!" came Lovino's muffled voice through the wood. "It's stupid- we don't need it, it's a waste of money anyway! Just leave me alone!"

Antonio opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, his fist poised, hovering, over the door, ready to knock. He dropped his hand, resting his forehead against the door.

"Merry Christmas," he muttered to himself.

* * *

 

"Lovi." Antonio knocked on his door. "It's been four hours now. Will you come out?"

Lovino tightened the blanket around himself, almost suffocating in the fabric. Just hearing Antonio's voice, the way it softened whenever he said his name, made his heart speed up and his chest ache such that he knew it was not the pneumonia. He clutched at his chest through his shirt, hand over his mouth to stop himself from giving in, from replying and letting him in like he so desperately wanted to. These feelings had hurt Roma once more, it was his responsibility to bury and harness them so that he might be safe again.

" _Please_ come out," begged Antonio. "Just for a little bit? I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry if I said something you didn't like, or did something bad," he apologized relentlessly. "I can be a bit thick at times, and sometimes I don't realize that I'm doing something wrong until it's too late. But I really  _am_ trying, and-"

The door swung open.  
"What." demanded Lovino, peering at Antonio suspiciously.

"Lovi! You're up!" exclaimed Antonio, caught unawares.

"Yeah. It sucks." He stepped out, Antonio backing away to allow him room. Lovino frowned. "What the.." Before he could protest, Antonio had grabbed his hand and tugged him out through the hallway and to the living room.

"What do you think?" he asked excitedly, squeezing Lovino's hand.

Lovino just gaped at the sight, red and green lights reflected in his eyes. All thoughts about Roma and his guilt drained from his mind and were replaced with sheer awe.

In the middle of the room, by the television, was an inflatable palm tree draped with glowing red and green fairy lights. The main room lights were off, leaving only the fairy lights strung around the plastic fronds on, casting everything in a warm red and green glow.

"Sorry it's not a real tree," apologized Antonio, looking at Lovino nervously for approval. "I couldn't find an actual one."

"No," said Lovino quietly, face shining. A tiny smile began to build across his lips until he couldn't hide it anymore.

"It's gorgeous," he gasped, speckled with red-green luminance that only seemed to make him more beautiful.

"Really?" Antonio looked back and forth from Lovino to the tree, the happiest he had been all day. "You think so?"

"Of course I do! It's  _perfect!"_  Practically glowing with joy and excitement, Lovino leaped up and hugged Antonio tightly.

"Thank you so much," he whispered, lips dangerously close to Antonio's ear. He felt his whole body burn with happiness and satisfaction, and hugged Lovino back, hands crossed around his waist.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas," replied Lovino, unable to stop smiling. And for the first time in forever, he really meant it.

* * *

 

"I left a present for you," breathed Antonio. His lips teased Lovino's earlobe and his entire body flushed hot with embarrassment and pleasure.

"Yeah?" he answered, wondering what it could possibly be.

"It's on the TV." Lovino didn't want to break from their embrace, but curiosity got the better of him and he pulled away, looking over his shoulder. Antonio's hands lingered, sliding down to his hips. Sitting on the flat surface of the dusty TV, nestled between the two antennae, was a yellow paper mache star and a roll of tape.

"I left the star for you to put on," explained Antonio. Lovino's eyes lit up. One hand flew up to cover his mouth, but he was beaming so wide he couldn't hide it.

"Holy fucking  _shit!"_  he exclaimed with wonder, hugging Antonio briefly once more before breaking free and hurrying to the star, cutting himself a piece of tape. He waved Antonio over.

"Lift me up," he commanded, and Antonio obliged gladly, grabbing Lovino around the middle and hoisting him up. Lovino shrieked at first, as his feet left the ground and became suspended in air, but then it dissolved into a series of giggles from the shock and excitement of it all.

"Could you hurry up please?" groaned Antonio, his arms straining.

"Sorry," said Lovino, still giggling, taping the star on top of the inflatable tree. Relieved, Antonio let him down, muscles aching.

Lovino wet his lips with his tongue. They hurt from smiling so wide. "Thank you," he managed to say.

"I have one last present," said Antonio, jogging off into their room and returning with a small parcel wrapped in newspaper, tied with a ribbon. He was smiling even more than Lovino, so happy just to see him finally relaxing.

Lovino took it gratefully, sitting down on the couch and pulling Antonio down with him. He glanced up at Antonio, biting his lip. He nodded, and Lovino began to untie the ribbon. The newspaper fell away in his lap, revealing a small red Sony Walkman MP3 player with earbuds wrapped around it.

Lovino lifted it up, turning it over and inspecting it with awe.

"It plays music," explained Antonio. "Go on," he urged, unable to suppress a grin. "Turn it on."

A little apprehensively, Lovino pressed the 'on' button with a slender finger and the screen flickered on. Album covers and titles began to load on the tiny screen and he flipped through them.

"You mentioned once you liked Queen," said Antonio, "So I put all of Queen on there and some other stuff- David Bowie, Beatles, Pink Floyd, some Beyonce, the works."

"You remembered?" repeated Lovino, bewildered. His face was illuminated blue from the tiny screen, and a tiny blue rectangle was reflected off his widened pupils.

"Of course! I remember everything you say." Antonio took the Walkman from Lovino's hands, clicked to the My Playlists section. There was a single playlist, titled, "Lovi's playlist." He moved to open it, but Antonio blocked it.

"That's a surprise," he said. "You can't open it until after I-  _we-_ leave."

Lovino nodded once, taking the small Walkman back, cradling it. He bit his lip nervously.

"I didn't get you anything," he mumbled.

"That's okay. I didn't really expect you to." Antonio's words were meant to comfort Lovino, but he only seemed to become more uneasy.

He licked his lips, searching for the words. "I don't- I don't have anything to give you," he said.

"Really, it's okay! Just your smile is enough."

"That's so fucking cliche," grumbled Lovino, yet he seemed to be both flattered and embarrassed by Antonio's words. "Isn't there  _anything_  you want?"

"Well…" Antonio scratched his head, thinking. "Not really. I'm happy just spending time with you."

"But I gotta give you something!" said Lovino, more to himself than Antonio. He paused, thinking.  
Here," he decided finally, and scooted over on the couch closer to Antonio until he was practically sitting in his lap. He grabbed his jaw, pulling it close to his face.

"Wha-" Antonio started to say, but was shushed as Lovino placed a finger on his lips. Slowly he leaned in, his tantalizing lips getting closer and closer to Antonio's own. He could feel the blood pumping, coursing through his body, echoing in his ears like rushing waves. His lips tingled in anticipation, and he could feel Lovino's hot rapid breath, hitting him like butterfly wings, growing nearer with every second.

Lovino's heart was pounding so wildly he could feel it, like a drumbeat, throughout his entire being. His whole body felt like it was on fire, pulsing madly. He shouldn't, he knew that, but there was nothing stopping him- Roma was gone, Emma was away; and on such a holy night as this one, God was surely preoccupied and wouldn't notice if maybe they shared blissful illicit touch once more…

The phone rang. His eyes snapped open and realization and embarrassment ran through Lovino like electricity. He bolted off Antonio, face burning, and picked up the phone, grateful for the distraction.

"Ciao?" he said, a bit too eager.

"Hi!" His brother's voice exploded from the other end, painfully loud. Lovino winced, holding the receiver away from his ear, but Feliciano's high, overexcited voice just seemed to become louder, filling the room.

" _Buon natale!"_ sang Feliciano.

" _Buon natale,"_ repeated Lovino grumpily. He glanced over his shoulder an Antonio. He was still on the couch, stunned, frozen in position.

"So? How's it going?" asked Feliciano, switching to Italian.

"How's  _what_  going?"

"Christmas! How's  _Nonno_ doing- can I speak to him? Oh, and what about Toni? Is he doing well? And did my plants survive- you know, that cactus in our room? Is it really warm there? I miss the warm wint-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, slow down, your tongue'll fall out!"

"Okay, okay, sorry. H _ooo_ ws Chr _iii_ stm _aaaa_ s? H _oo_ w-" Feliciano repeated himself, slowing down dramatically until he was extending every vowel by several seconds or so.

"Not that slow!" snapped Lovino. "Christmas is fine! Roma's fine! And Antonio… he's fine." Lovino cast an embarrassed glance at him once more. He was fidgeting on the couch, seemingly having broken out of his trance. His ears were red.

Eager to end the conversation, Lovino blurted, "Thank you and goodnight!" and prepared to hang up, but Feliciano cried out,

"Wait, wait!" and Lovino paused.

"What?" he grumbled.

"I wanna hear more than that! And can I talk to  _Nonno?_ He hasn't called me since last Wednesday, which is weird, because he usually gets up early my time so he can call me. Did something happen?" This time Lovino hesitated, biting his lip.

"What happened?" asked Feliciano hurriedly, his already high, boyish voice raising several pitches.

"Nothing- he's fine, he'll be fine, so-"

"Did he get mad at you again? Did he find the rest of my magazines?"

"The  _rest_ of them? There were  _more?!"_

"Oh, he didn't, then? What was it? Was it the drawings? The poster? The male anatomy book?" asked Feliciano desperately.

"How much gay porn do you have?!" yelled Lovino into the phone.

"It's not  _porn!"_ said Feliciano indignantly. "It's art! Why shouldn't I appreciate the beauty of the male form?"

"Because it's gonna get your twink ass killed! Fucking hell, how many times do I have to say this?! No crossdressing, no gay porn, no fucking underwear magazines, no sculptures of humongous dicks modeled after the leaning tower of Pisa!"

"The Pisa-penis was one time, Lovi, and that was a  _joke!"_ declared Feliciano firmly.

"Well, it wasn't funny! If Roma passes out again, he'll-"

" _Again?"_ interrupted Feliciano. " _Mio dio,_ what happened?!"

"Why do you care?  _You're_  the one that's killing him with your- your  _sin_ and  _debauchery!"_

There was a nervous pause on the other end of the line.

"C'mon, Lovi, don't be like that," begged Feliciano. "He was sick even before he found out, so it couldn't possibly be your fault  _or_  mine!"

"Well, yesterday was definitely my fault, so-"

"Yesterday? What happened yesterday?"

"Roma- he caught me and Antonio-"

Feliciano gasped, and then screamed in excitement. Lovino yelped, holding the phone away from his ear painfully.

"You guys finally got together?" he cried, voice piercing. "Gosh, that took  _forever!_  How was it? Did it feel nice? Did you, you know, or did he? And where? Was it-"

"Jesus, Feli, it wasn't anything special! It was, you know, normal. And stop talking so loud. My head hurts."

"Oh, but the first time is always special! Did it hurt?"

"Why would it  _hurt?_ You're making even less sense than usual!" reprimanded Lovino.

"You know, when  _it_ goes in. Or did you top?"

"Top what?"

"When you guys did the.. the.." Feliciano struggled for words. Finally he whispered into the phone, voice a crackly hiss, "The horizontal hokey-pokey?"

"Huh?" Lovino blinked, too confused to even be angry. Then realization struck him, and his face flooded with color, gripping the plastic phone dangerously tight.

"We did not do the- the  _horizonal hokey-pokey!_  We didn't even do the vertical hokey-pokey! We just… oh god," Lovino covered his burning face with his free hand, embarrassed, even though Feliciano couldn't see him. He could feel Antonio's questioning eyes on the back of his neck.

"We just- held hands for a while," he hissed into the phone. "And it wasn't like  _that-_ his hand was cold, and my hand was cold- it was heat conservation!"

His brother's loud, hiccupy laughs resonated through the phone, filling the room.

"That's  _it?"_ he giggled. "Oh,  _fratello,_ you are such a virgin!"

"Shut up!" snapped Lovino in hushed tones, face completely red. "You're my little brother, you shouldn't talk like a- a- a shameless  _harlot!"_

"Aaw, don't worry, Lovi, there's still time," chuckled his little brother. "You'll become a shameless harlot yet."

"I will  _not!"_ said Lovino indignantly, but his brother just laughed.

"So," he said, a smile still in his lighthearted voice, " _Nonno_ caught you two.. conserving heat, or whatever you want to call it. Then what happened?"

"Then he- he was yelling, and he stood up and came toward me, and-" His throat suddenly dry, Lovino found it hard to speak.

"He passed out?" Feliciano finished for him.

"Yeah."

"Gosh, that's awful," enthused Feliciano. "And on Christmas, too- it must be really hard for you."

Lovino grunted in agreement, guilt welling up in his throat like he had swallowed a stone. Christmas  _should_ be hard for him- he should be wallowing in grief and self-hatred and guilt like always, yet here he was, enjoying himself with Antonio, almost kissing him, even! How could he? How could he let himself forget all that he had caused and the massive debt he owed, all for Antonio and some stupid Christmas tree?

"Have you visited Ma's grave yet?" Feliciano's question shook Lovino out of his reverie.

"Not yet," he managed to say. His head hurt, aching dully. It felt as if his brain were being shoved through a tiny tube, convulsing and contracting painfully.

"Well, when you do, make sure to say hi for me, okay? And.."

"And what?" said Lovino, his voice flat. He knew what Feliciano was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it, yet some part of him still egged his brother on.

"Don't blame yourself. For Roma, and the crash, an-" Feliciano's voice was cut off as Lovino promptly hung up the phone.


	29. Genderqueer

"Where are you going?" asked Antonio, fidgeting nervously on the couch as he watched Lovino step into his shoes, swinging his sweatshirt around his shoulders impatiently.

"Out."

"Why?"

"Because." The door slammed behind him. His echoing footsteps, growing more distant with each step, resounded through the apartment.

* * *

Antonio followed his suspicions to the grave where he had found Lovino the night before. He half expected Lovino to run or hide as he approached, but he didn't move, just opened one eye and stared at him. Antonio loped over to him and sat down heavily, the dirt erupting in clouds under him and settling on his jeans, shirt, and arms. He leaned against the gravestone.

Not knowing what to say, he settled for "Sup." Lovino said nothing.

"Is this your.. mother's grave?" guessed Antonio, judging from what he had overheard the previous night. Lovino hesitated, then nodded silently.

"Did she, like, die on Christmas or something?" he asked, getting another nod in response.

"Shit, I'm sorry, man," he said. "That sucks ass." Another nod.

"Look, its getting cold, and you just brought that thin sweater- why don't we start heading back?"

Lovino shook his head, breaking the cycle. "You go," he said. "I'll stay."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"You will, eventually."

"I won't. Don't you remember what I told you?" Seeing Lovino's puzzled expression, Antonio elaborated,

"You'll never have to be alone anymore."

* * *

It was dark by the time they left the grave and began to silently head back to the apartment. Antonio figured Lovino didn't want to talk, and so asked no questions. Finally Lovino spoke up, splitting the silence without warning.

"It was a car crash," he said quietly.

"Huh?"

"How she died."

"Oh." Antonio scratched his neck awkwardly, not knowing the correct response, or if there even was one. "I'm sorry."

Lovino shrugged. "She was drunk. It would have happened sooner or later anyway, if I hadn't.." He trailed off, his gait suddenly stiff.

"Hadn't what?"

"It was-" Lovino licked his lips, trying to find the words. "It was sort of my fault, too."

"I'm sure it wasn't," Antonio began to appease him, but Lovino just continued mercilessly.

"She was yelling at me, and wasn't looking where she was going, so she crashed."

"That's not your fault- she was drunk, right?"

He shrugged again. "Yeah," he said, kicking a pebble as he walked, "But still. It kinda was."

Antonio knew it would be a waste of time to even try to argue with him, and so attempted to change the subject into a happier one.

"What was she like?" he asked. "Your mom, I mean."

Lovino hesitated, his jaw clenching briefly. "I didn't like her much," he said eventually.

"Huh? Why?"

"I dunno- she didn't like me, so I didn't like her."

"Oh, c'mon- I'm sure she loved you!"

Lovino shook his head. "She didn't. She was always telling me how she wished she could go back in time and get an abortion done."

Antonio was stunned, not knowing what to say. "..That's not very nice," he said carefully. "What about your dad?"

Lovino scoffed. "Never met him," he said. " _She_  didn't even know who he was."

"Like a.. a sperm donor?" suggested Antonio.

Lovino groaned, a hand to his forehead. "No, I mean there were so many guys she didn't know which one."

"Oh." They continued to walk on, Antonio shocked into silence. "T-Then what about your brother?"

"Different guy, same story."

"Oh, so you two have different dads? Is that why you're…" Antonio struggled to find an appropriate word, "..dark, and your brother isn't?"

Lovino nodded once, face tilted towards the ground.

"When did she.. pass? Was it recently?"

"I was eight when it happened. Feli was six. After that I lived in a home."

"Oh, really? I used to work in a home, you know. What was it like?"

Lovino shrugged. "Dunno. I was kinda lonely, I guess. Feli got adopted by some rich Austrian couple, so I was alone."

"You didn't make any friends?"

Lovino chose not to answer that one, hugging himself tightly. His pace quickened a little, and Antonio jogged to keep up with him.

"Sorry," he apologized. "That was insensitive."

"What was your one like?" Lovino's question startled Antonio. "The one you worked in," he continued, tips of his ears red.

"Oh, it was great! I loved working there! I was technically supposed to teach the kids English since most of them only spoke Spanish, but I mainly just messed around and made them cookies and bought crayons and shit. I would let them play hairdresser with my hair, and they'd put it up in little pink barrettes and ribbons and smear lipstick across my face, stuff like that." Antonio laughed fondly at the memory.

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah, it was pretty great- and all the kids were so cute, too! But not as cute as you," added Antonio quickly, grinning cheekily when Lovino glared at him in return. "Didn't you get to do fun stuff like that in your home?"

Lovino shook his head. "The home was run by nuns, and they were all pretty strict.."

"Aww." Antonio nudged Lovino's shoulder, grinning. "Well, if you want, you could make up for lost time and do my hair and nails when we get back!"

"Fuck no," berated Lovino, but a small giggle slipped out as he nudged Antonio back, harder and more forcefully, yet still kindly and with humor.

"Or I could put ribbons in your hair and you could put on a dress and-"

"I said  _no!"_  yelled Lovino, voice suddenly harsh. He stopped, in the middle of the road, looking down. Antonio noticed he had pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his hands, playing with the frayed strings anxiously.

"Lovi?" asked Antonio cautiously, afraid he had set him off. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Lovino began to walk again at a fast shuffle, kicking up dirt and pebbles in his efforts to get away from Antonio.

Antonio began to jog after Lovino, but he just broke into a run, speeding away from him until he ran out of breath and doubled over, coughing and gasping. Antonio slowed to a stop beside him.

"C'mon," he said, placing a hand on Lovino's spasming back. "Let's sit down for a while."

"Don't touch me!" Lovino wrestled away from him, stumbling backwards a few steps. His eyes shone in the dusk.

"Okay, okay," Antonio held up his hands in a surrender pose, taking a step back. "Just sit down."

Lovino eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer, then sat down heavily in the dirt by the side of the road. Antonio plopped down next to him, listening to the wheezing and whistling of his lungs as he fought for air. After several minutes he seemed to quiet down enough to talk.

"Better?" asked Antonio, but he just received a glare. "Look, I'm sorry," he continued, not sure what he was apologizing for.

"Can I just ask you something, though?" he asked apprehensively. Lovino wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at him questioningly, waiting.

"That picture I found- it  _was_ you, wasn't it? The two girls were you and your brother?"

Lovino stiffened. Then slowly, as if forcing himself, he nodded slightly.

"Did you used to be a girl or something?"

"No!" said Lovino indignantly, then paused. "Well, yes. Sort of."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Ma really wanted a daughter." Lovino folded his hands in his lap, staring at them. His ears were red with embarrassment. "She was so sure I'd be a girl, she didn't get an ultrasound or anything. She had a name all picked out- Lavinia. But when I.. you know, and I was a boy, she didn't know what to name me, so she just named me Lovino."

Seeing Antonio's confused expression, Lovino quickly explained, "Lovino isn't a real Italian name- it means 'I ruin.' It's just the male form of Lavinia. She didn't have time to look up a real boy's name, so she just converted my girl name into masculine form."

"Oh." Antonio nodded. "That's pretty cool, actually."

Lovino shook his head. "Not really," he said, dejected. "Because-" he broke off, face flushing with embarrassment. "Because she still wanted a daughter. So she- she made me be a girl." He buried his face in his hands, ashamed.

"You mean she cut  _it_ off?" Antonio couldn't hide a glance downwards.

"No!" he cried, scandalized, face bright red as he covered himself conscientiously with his hands. "She just made me wear dresses and talk feminine, that kinda shit."

"What did Roma think of that?" laughed Antonio.

"He didn't know at first," Lovino told him, voice muffled slightly. "Ma was just sixteen when she had me, and she didn't know who the dad was so she couldn't marry or anything, so Roma.."

"He threw her out?" suggested Antonio dryly. Lovino lifted his head slightly, looking at him in amazement.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

Antonio gave a wry laugh. "Just a hunch," he said. "Your granddad has an awful habit of kicking family out if they displease him."

"Shush." Lovino elbowed Antonio in the ribs, but continued. "So yeah. She was sixteen, she didn't know which guy it was, and I think most of them were older anyway- some were married, so even if they knew they were my dad, they wouldn't say. And she couldn't really get a good job or anything, so she- she-"

"Was she a hooker?"

" _No!"_  said Lovino indignantly. "She just stole credit cards, that's all."

"That's  _all?!"_  repeated Antonio incredulously. "That's illegal!"

Lovino shrugged nonchalantly. "She stole credit cards and she'd find boyfriends to stay with until they got tired of her or violent or whatever, then she'd steal their car or wallet and move again. We never stayed anywhere for more than a couple weeks. Then she had Feliciano, and again, she made him be her daughter. I don't think he really minded though." Lovino laughed dryly. "He was always saying how he liked having a breeze down there when he wore skirts."

Antonio laughed. "That does sound like him."

"And he could hang around little boys without anyone freaking out, because they thought he was a girl," continued Lovino, smiling slightly at the memory.

"Didn't you like being a girl?" asked Antonio, grinning mischieviously.

"No!" said Lovino, face flooding with color. "It was awful- especially at the home, and then Roma…"

"Why? What happened?"

Lovino bit his lip, shoulders tensing. "I dunno," he said finally. "Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"You know.." Lovino gestured limply. "Stuff. Like," he extrapolated, seeing Antonio's confusion, "People were always asking me, 'which are you?'- and I- I wasn't sure either, so I'd just tell them to fuck off or something, so I was always getting in trouble or getting hit or having to put soap in my mouth for swearing, that shit."

Antonio chuckled. "That sounds like you," he said. He frowned. "They hit you?"

"Not badly- it was just the belt, whacking me on the head with a ladle or big spoon, or slapping me with a ruler, stuff like that."

"Oh god, that's awful," enthused Antonio. Lovino looked at him, confused.

"No, it's not," he said slowly. "I mean, I deserved it."

"No one deserves that!" said Antonio fervently. Lovino just shrugged.

"I did," he said.

"But- but Roma didn't hit you, right?"

"Not really. Only when I acted like a girl or cried. He wanted a son, you see," explained Lovino. "But he got Ma instead, so he didn't really pay much attention to her when she was growing up. That's probably why she turned out… like she did." His eyes flashed green for a second in the haze. "Then she had me, and Feli, and suddenly Roma got interested, because now he could raise sons. Even though he threw her out, he asked if he could have us. She said no, turned us into daughters, and ran off. I think for a while he followed, trailing us and trying to get custody, but eventually he gave up. Then Ma died, and Feli and I went into separate homes, so it took him another year to find us both and get custody. We went back home with him, and he…"

"What? What did he do?"

"He.. made us be boys again. So no dresses, no Lavinia-ing or Felicia, no crying or acting in any way he thought was 'girly.' I remember," Lovino laughed faintly, "Once he tried to play catch with me and Feli, but Feli just sat down and made daisy chains, and I was so afraid of the ball that I'd run away from it. He was so mad."

"Aaw." Antonio grinned, reaching over and ruffling Lovino's hair. "I bet you two were cute kids."

"Feli was," mumbled Lovino. "Not me, though. I was too dark and skinny."

"Yeah, but that's what makes you so cute!"

Lovino shrugged off his words, not believing him. "But generally," he continued, ignoring Antonio's words, "It was just very… uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Well, it was wrong, wasn't it? I'm a boy, I shouldn't dress like..  _that._ And I knew that, but I looked like a girl, and I wasn't really sure  _what_ I was, you know?"

"Like," Lovino continued restlessly, sensing Antonio's confusion, "I still look sort of like a girl. Even you said I look andro-genus, and though I know I'm a boy, I sometimes-" He broke off suddenly.

"You still want to be a girl?"

"No! I'm happy being a boy. It's just- I'm not sure if I really  _am_  a boy." He bit his lip, downcast. "I mean, I don't look like one, and I'm- you know,"

"Gay?"

Lovino nodded slightly.

"But being gay doesn't make you less of a man!" insisted Antonio. "If you want to be male, you are. It doesn't matter whether you look male or not."

Lovino shrugged dejectedly. "That's not what Roma says. He says that because of what I was when I was little, it made me confused, and that's why I'm.. like this."

"Fuck Roma!" insisted Antonio passionately. "He doesn't get to decide whether you're a boy or a girl or neither; whether you're straight or not-  _you_ do!"

"Yeah, but whenever I disobey him or do something wrong, bad shit always happens! So if I just stay good and listen to him, everything will be okay."

"That's not a very sound ideology," advised Antonio.

"I don't care. If it keeps anyone else from getting killed, it's good enough."

"No one's going to get killed because you're gay! Roma's old and sick anyway, and your mom was drunk! None of these incidents are your fault!"

"But both times they were mad at  _me,_ they were yelling at  _me,_ and then they died!"

"So?"

"So there must be something wrong with me!"

"But there's nothing wrong with you!" insisted Antonio.

"There is if I kill everyone I love! At this rate, you'll be next!"

"Wha.." Antonio gawked at Lovino. "Did you just-"

"Nothing! I said nothing!" said Lovino frantically, racing to cover his tracks. "W-Why don't we go back?" he suggested hastily, face bright red. He stood up abruptly. It took a moment before Antonio was able to move again, frozen from shock. Finally he managed to stand up shakily, following Lovino nervously.

* * *

Face still burning, it took a while for Lovino to unlock the door as his hands were shaking terribly. Yet Antonio seemed to be feeling as awkward as he, unable to look him in the eyes properly, and constantly rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was embarrassed.

Lovino shed his sweatshirt, dropping it on the floor in a circle around his legs. He stepped out of the ring of cloth and slid his bare feet from his shoes, his feet making slapping sounds as they hit the floor. He padded into his room but did not lock the door behind him, so Antonio took it as an invitation and followed. He found him sitting, crosslegged, on the mattress, staring intently at the photo of the two girls whom Antonio now knew to be Lovino and his brother. Then, to his surprise, he patted the area next to him, indicating for Antonio to sit beside him, which he gladly did.

As he sat down on the mattress, it's weight curved towards him and Lovino came tumbling down, slamming against his shoulder.

"Shit, sorry, are you okay?" Antonio apologized, but he couldn't hide a chuckle.

"Fine," said Lovino brusquely, straightening back up, but yet again his body collapsed into Antonio's.

"Fuckin' gravity," Antonio heard him mutter, as he was shoved unceremoniously off the bed. "You can sit on the floor," Lovino told him.

"Sorry," laughed Antonio, running a hand through his hair. They sat, for a minute or two at least, in uncomfortable silence. He had the feeling that Lovino was waiting for him to say something, but he had no clue what to say. Eventually he settled for,

"It sucks your mom died." As soon as he had said the words, he regretted it, and quickly rushed to cover them. "I- I mean, weather's nice today."

Lovino rolled his eyes, but Antonio thought he might have seen the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It's fine," he said.

"Th- The weather, or your.." Antonio trailed off.

Lovino looked at him pointedly. "What do you think?" Seeing that Antonio was still confused, he sighed and said, "My mom."

"Oh. Sorry."

"But, you know, whatever." Lovino shrugged. "She was a bitch anyway." A thought seemed to come to him, and he said, smirking slightly, "I got a cool scar in the crash, though. You wanna see?"

"Sure." Antonio inched closer to the mattress, so his kneecaps were touching the side of it. Slowly, almost seductively, Lovino lifted the left corner of his shirt until it was just under his ribs. A thin white line, vivid against his dark complexion, was etched into his skin, beginning below his lower rib and continuing down his hip. Part of it was hidden by his jeans.

A hot feeling, like he had just swallowed a bowl of soup, started in his lower half, spreading to every part of his body. Mesmerized, he reached out a stray finger, touching it lightly to the start of the scar. Lovino gasped aloud and he pulled back quickly.

"D- Does it still hurt?" he asked worriedly.

"No!" chastised Lovino, his face red. He looked away. "Y- Your hand is just cold, that's all." He peeked at Antonio out of the corner of his eye. His heart leapt, enticed by just this simple gesture.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Antonio blew on his hands, rubbing them together to generate heat. He gently lay his index finger on the spot he had previously touched. "Better?" he asked softly.

Lovino bit his lip, nodding.

Slowly Antonio traced down the scar, feeling Lovino's midriff rise slightly as he breathed. The hotness inside of him was almost unbearable now, bubbling like a pot ready to overflow. His hand reached the edge of Lovino's jeans and stopped.

"And it-" Lovino swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. he was finding it hard to speak all of a sudden, his heart beating so rapidly he was worried he might faint. He felt dizzy, almost, with Antonio's touch; yet for some reason, he wanted more.

"It continues down my- my thigh," he spoke, voice getting quieter, more nervous with every word, until the last word was barely a whisper.

Faithfully Antonio's hand slid down his hip, cupping it for one heart-pounding moment, then continued down his thigh. The hotness inside Antonio was intolerable now, threatening to consume him. He had to touch Lovino more, had to feel more, or else he would surely die. Unable to speak, he stared into his eyes, hoping he might find some answer, some explanation for this heat, desire to feel and kiss and touch every inch, every crevice of his body.

* * *

Lovino knew he should stop Antonio, should shove him off and slap him until his whole face was raw; yet for some reason, he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to do it.

 _Think of Roma,_ he told himself.  _Think of him lying there, sick, in the hospital because of you._ But still the sensation of Antonio's hand on his thigh, moving slowly, enticingly, sending waves of warmth and pleasure coursing through him stunned him into inaction. He could barely breathe, his whole body immobilized, and all he could do was stare into Antonio's eyes helplessly, entangling himself further and further into desire.

Antonio's hand paused on Lovino's thigh. He somehow managed to tear his eyes from Lovino's for a brief second, whispering slowly,

"I never got my Christmas present."

Lovino's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. "Wh- what do you want?" he croaked, throat dry.

"Is.. is it okay if I…" Antonio's eyes darted around the room nervously. He gulped. "...If I kiss you?"

"Uh…" Lovino's gaze flicked briefly down to Antonio's hand, still on his thigh. He should say no, he knew that, yet some part of him still held on to the brief whims of romanticism buried deep inside him, egging him on. He wanted to not want this, to feel disgusted and offended instead of excited, but as always, his mind and body seemed to operate on different levels. Maybe if they kissed just once, the feelings would go away and he would be free again.

Lovino took a deep breath, steeling himself, and then nodded, unable to look Antonio in the eyes anymore, he was too embarrassed.

Antonio smiled nervously, lopsided. "Okay," he said, readying himself, and began to lean in. His eyes closed, but Lovino's remained open, widened in fear. He could hardly move, he was so nervous. The pleasant, fluttering sensation in his chest dissipated, constricting him until he couldn't breathe. Why had he agreed to this?! Roma would surely die, and it would be his fault, again- he didn't want to kill another person, he'd never be able to live with the blood of two of his family members on his hands! He had to do something, he urged himself, but his body wouldn't move and oh god, he could feel Antonio's breath against his lips, warming him once more- maybe this wouldn't be so bad- no, what was he thinking?! He  _had_  to stop him, had to shove him off or something, but he was paralyzed, for better or for worse.

Just as Antonio's lips brushed against Lovino's, he squeezed his eyes shut and blurted,

"What about Emma?"

* * *

Antonio's whole body froze. His eyes snapped open, a jolt of ice running through him. The warmth dwindled away and withered, replaced by cold fear, panic, and a churning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He backed off of Lovino, crawling backwards off the mattress, accidentally knocking over the screen separating their beds in his attempts to flee.

"I-" he croaked, worried he might throw up. "Sorry- I- Oh, god-" He rose to his feet unsteadily, a rushing feeling in his skull as if he were falling, the walls of the already small room closing in on him, crushing him. He leaned against the door for support and it swung open, causing him to crash to the floor. He scuttled backwards like a crab, kicking the door shut. He managed to rise, legs shaking beneath him, and he fled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

With shaking hands he violently twisted the knob on the sink. Murky brown water sprayed in all directions, and he stuck his head under without waiting for it to become clean.

The cold water hit him so hard it stung, and he welcomed it gladly. Droplets dripped down his neck and ran down his spine, making him shiver. Water clogged his nostrils and mouth until he couldn't breathe, and still he didn't pull away.

 _You deserve this,_ he told himself, fighting for air.  _You cheated on Emma. You hurt Lovino. You deserve this._

Yet self-preservation kicked in and he turned the tap off, though he remained there, bent over the sink crudely, breathing heavily.

* * *

Lovino heard the bathroom door slam and flinched at the harsh, abrasive noise. He let his body fall onto the mattress limply, bouncing once before settling. He couldn't seem to find it in him to move, his body paralyzed. The places where Antonio had touched him still tingled, and his chest hurt dully, head buzzing like it was full of bees.

 _You did the right thing,_ he told himself.  _This is for the best._

But then why didn't it feel like that?

* * *

_In the canon series, when Romano and N. Italy were young, they wore dresses, and Holy Roman Empire even thought N. Italy was a girl. I wanted to somehow incorporate that into my story, hence the photograph, Lovino and Feliciano's gender confusion and crossdressing, etc. I've been hinting at this throughout the story, but I must not have made it clear enough because it doesn't seem like anyone picked up on them._

_In chapter 9,  Lovino reveals that he knows what size he is in womens clothing. In chapter 13, he wonders if he became a girl (again), Antonio might like him the way he likes Emma. This is also shown in chapter 21. In the chapter before then, chapter 20, Lovino recalls when he was kicked out by Roma, who had caught him dressed as a girl. We now know that Roma, after having wanted sons and trying so hard to 're-educate' Lovino and Feliciano into behaving like the sons he wanted, is furious not just because he thinks Lovino is gay, but because he fears that he is growing back into the girl he used to be. In the conversation between him and Lovino in chapter 27, he discusses this, even calling Lovino 'Lavinia,' his old name. In addition, he says 'you're not my grandson.' He is not, how I wrote it, disowning Lovino, he is stating that he isn't a "real man" and is more like his granddaughter._

_Also, the fact that Lovino isn't a real boy's name has always confused me. Female forms of it exist, like Lavinia or Lavina/Lovina, but I've never heard of anyone being named Lovino/Rovino before, probably just because you'd have to be a huge ass to name your kid 'I ruin,' which is the meaning of Rovino. I wanted to somehow explain the origins of his name in my story, and came up with perhaps he was originally meant to be named something else, aka Lavinia. I also thought that since someone would have to be really awful to name their kid Lovino/Rovino, even by accident, his mother must be kind of a horrible person, which is why I made her not very nice in this story._

_I also just really like the idea of a genderqueer/genderfluid Lovino._

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait. I was in a bad situation (not dissimilar to Lovino's, actually), and wasn't able to write._

_I will resume regular posting. Thank you for reading._

 


	30. You Didn't Listen

Antonio awoke, curled up in a puddle of water on the dirty bathroom floor. His neck and shoulders ached from his uncomfortable position, and as he sat up he felt a twinge of pain shoot across his jugular. Rubbing his neck, he stood up and attempted to open the door. It didn't budge. He tried again, harder, and it slid open a crack. Lovino was leaning against the door, asleep. His gray blanket was wrapped around him. He must have spent all night like that, Antonio realized, and the guilt hit him like an avalanche. Carefully, he pushed the door enough so that he could get out. Lovino's body slid sickly as the door moved, but he did not wake.

Antonio closed the door, holding Lovino's body up so he didn't crash to the floor. He laid a pillow under his head and pulled the blanket up over him once more, then padded to their room to pack his things.

* * *

It was five am when Lovino plodded into the room, bleary eyed.

"Good morning," said Antonio carefully, zipping up his bag. Lovino said nothing, just picked up his duffel bag and exited the room again. Having finished packing, Antonio also left the room, depositing his bag by the door. He heard the clink of bottle against glass and the trickle of liquid as Lovino poured himself a brimming glass of red wine, shaking the bottle vigorously to get out the last drops of alcohol. Antonio opened his mouth to chastise him, but then closed it, figuring he wasn't in any position to criticize after last night.

_Last night._

Antonio groaned, sinking down onto a chair and resting his elbows on the table. He rubbed his face sleepily, wishing he could erase the events of last night from his memory.

There was a thud in front of him and he lifted his head to see Lovino place a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip. It tasted strange, oddly sweet and thick.

"I put some chocolate powder in it," explained Lovino quietly, leaning against the counter and sipping his wine. "You like mochas."

Antonio nodded his appreciation and took another sip. The coffee itself wasn't very good, but the sweetness of the chocolate seemed to nullify the usual sawdust-esque taste of the stale coffee.

"About last night-" he blurted, and then stopped, hanging his head.

"Yeah?" Lovino swirled the wine around in his glass.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I lost control, I was really awful and-"

"It's fine."

"Huh?" Antonio raised his head, startled.

"I said it's fine," said Lovino curtly, but by the look of his face, nothing was fine. His eyes were bloodshot, rings of red surrounding them, and dark purple sleep bags hung under his eyes. His face seemed to have been rubbed raw, and had a strange shiny quality to it which Antonio credited to his first layer of skin having been rubbed or scratched clean off. His nails were bitten stubs, the cuticles bloody, and his hair was disheveled and matted.

"Right," said Antonio shakily. Lovino eyed him for a moment longer, and then completely drained his glass in one gulp. He slammed the glass on the counter, then came and pulled a chair out across from Antonio.

"Um, about the flight," Antonio began, knowing that despite the awful timing and situation, it was the only chance he'd get to properly tell Lovino that he was leaving.

"Yeah, I know," said Lovino lazily. "It's at 8:20, so we should leave soon, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Antonio heard himself say, stunned into silence. He had to tell Lovino, but somehow, he just couldn't force himself to open his mouth and actually say the words.

"So finish your coffee and let's go," he said impatiently, standing up and putting on his shoes, kneeling down to tie them.

"Right," muttered Antonio, and finished drinking his coffee.

* * *

It was a bit past eight when they made it to the airport. They were in such a hurry to get to the gate before it left that Antonio almost forgot about his having to leave Lovino, until it all came flooding painfully back at the passport check.

"Passport," the guard said in a bored voice. Antonio dug his out of his pocket eagerly and handed it to him. The guard just barely glanced at it before handing it back to him and waved him through.

"Next," they said, and Lovino stepped up. He stood there, silently for a minute, waiting.

"I need your passport, sir," the guard said.

"Yeah, I'm with him," said Lovino in Italian, pointing to Antonio, who was fidgeting nervously on the other side.

"That's nice. We still need to see your passport."

"But he showed you his, and I'm with him, so I can go through." Lovino made a step towards Antonio, but the guard blocked him.

"That's not how it works, sir. I'm sorry, but you can't go through."

"I  _can!"_ Lovino switched back to English. "Right, Antonio? I can go through."

Antonio shook his head stiffly, afraid that if he opened his mouth he might vomit. His insides were churning, and he felt as if a great block of ice was in his stomach, melting slowly and spreading cold unpleasantness throughout his entire body.

"I'm sorry, Lovi," Antonio managed to say, hands shaking so bad he dropped his bag. "You can't come."

"The fuck you mean I can't come?! You said-" His words were cut off as a guard gripped his elbow, yanking him backwards forcefully and throwing him off his feet.

"I have to go," croaked Antonio, bile welling in his throat. "I'll be late."

"No- you can't, you can't-" Lovino kicked the guard in the shin, making him lose his hold momentarily. He took the chance and surged forward, only managing a couple of feet before the guard grabbed him round the chest and hauled him backwards.

Antonio took a couple steps backward, dragging his bag with him. His whole body felt wooden, limbs moving stiffy. He had to go, he was already so late, but he couldn't leave Lovino. Not like this.

"Lovi, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry," repeated Antonio relentlessly, wiping tears and snot from his face with his sleeve. "I have to go." He forced himself to turn around, pick up his bag, take a step.

"No- No, you can't, you can't do this- don't do this to me! Antonio!" Lovino's voice grew fainter as Antonio walked on, guilt and self-hate filling every pore until it seemed to be seeping out of him. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying out to Lovino, clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands and his knuckles were white.

"You bastard!" screamed Lovino, voice cracking. "You fucking  _bastard_ \- you said I'd never have to be alone anymore!"

The words hit Antonio like a blow and he wavered slightly on his feet, legs shaking underneath him. "I'm sorry," he tried to say, but the words caught in his mouth and choked him. Lovino's cries grew fainter and fainter as he walked further away, until the sound of him swearing fully disappeared.

* * *

Somehow Antonio managed to make it to his plane in time and boarded, eager to escape the sickening white glare from the fluorescent LED lights reflecting off the marble  _pietra dura_  airport floors; the red dry mud that crumbled into dirt under his heels and infiltrated every inch of him until the shower ran red and brown with dirt; the tiny, moldy apartment with one window that let in drafts but not air, with dim yellow lights that only served to show how worn down and old the place really was; and of course, the voice of Lovino, screaming, yelling, begging, swearing as he walked away coolly- how could he just walk away?- it echoed inside his head, his bones; it seemed to be running through his very veins: " _You said I wouldn't have to be alone anymore!"_

A wave of nausea overwhelmed Antonio suddenly and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from projectile vomiting onto the person in front of them and their overly-gelled coiffeur. How could he do this? How could he just leave? He had done everything that he had said he wouldn't, he had broken all his promises and vows, and for what? For Emma? But even the once-comforting thought of Emma made him feel ill- he had cheated on her, he had betrayed her, too- who would love him now? Who would fill the empty space in his hand while walking; who would curl up on the couch next to him with a bucket of popcorn and laugh when he screamed at the scary bits; who would comfort him when he came to their apartment at two in the morning, crying over a failed exam or an unlucky animal he had seen, dead by the side of the road? Certainly not Emma, nor Lovino, whom he abandoned. He couldn't even find it in himself to love himself. And how could he? How could he love himself, when he had violated the trust of his best friend and ruined everything he held dear?

He had to get off the plane. He had to find Lovino, wherever he was by now, and apologize. He needed to call up Emma, and explain his predicament, and accept whatever punishment or distrust that brought.

With shaking hands he unbuckled and began to stand up. He was easing his way out of the aisle when the plane jolted, starting to roll forwards at higher and higher velocity, preparing to take off. He was knocked off his feet and tumbled onto the lap of the person sitting behind, apologizing maniacally in Spanish, English, and broken Italian, and attempted to stand up again and walk out, only to fall again as the nose of the plane tilted upwards and it began to fly.

"Sorry, sorry,  _lo siento,_ er-  _mi dispiace..?"_ he said repeatedly to the disgruntled passenger on whose lap he had fallen. A flight attendant appeared, berating him in Italian, and desperately he tried to signal that he spoke little to no Italian, but his gestures were mistaken for signs of agreement, for the flight attendant moved on, wobbling a bit in her heels.

Knowing that attempting to get back on the ground by now was futile, Antonio abashedly moved back to his seat, making it a point to step on the passenger who had sworn at him's foot as he did so. Hopelessly he stared out of the window, watching the brown and green squares of farmland grow smaller and smaller as the plane gained altitude and wondering which one was Lovino's division, until Palma Campania was swallowed up by clouds and disappeared completely.

* * *

Lovino watched as Antonio walked away, tantalizingly slowly. He screamed until his throat was raw, struggled against the guard with all his might, but none of it made any difference. Antonio was gone, and he was stuck here, left behind and forgotten; unwanted. Again.

The speck that was Antonio finally disappeared from sight, and the anger that had been feeding Lovino's verbal and physical rampage wore out until all he felt was cold, buzzing numbness. He fell to his knees- he knew this because of the sudden pain in his kneecaps- and the guard who had been holding him let go, the full weight of Lovino's now-limp body weighing him down.

Thickly, as if through water or syrup, he heard the guard's voice, first in nervous, accented English, then in Italian,

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Lovino closed his eyes, getting to his feet. He didn't want to see the cold, harsh white interior of the airport anymore. "Yeah," he tried to say, but no sound came out and, surprised, he held a hand to his throat.

"Sir?" asked the guard again. Lovino nodded, unable to speak. It was a moment before he swallowed saliva, wetting his raw, scratched throat, and found his voice.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, and then again, louder, more for himself than the guard. He turned and, head bowed, eyes lowered so that all he could see was the shoddy  _pietra dura_ marble floors- he could do better, he thought briefly- and his scuffed sneakers, walked past the guard and back to the entrance of the airport, where he cast one last look at the gleaming walls, floors, and ceiling, before leaving.

* * *

Upon leaving he checked his pockets, then his bag, and discovered he had used up the last of his money for the bus fare to the airport, and that he had none for the ride back. He swore, loudly, startling a mother pushing a pram, and sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, removing his shoes and checking the lining, ripping open the seams in his jeans and jacket to see if he had sewn any coins into them, sweeping the bottom of his duffel bag, finding only sweet wrappers and crumpled photographs. He felt something that had a papery texture and eagerly pulled it out, but all he found in his hand was the wrinkled pamphlet that Antonio had asked about so many months earlier: "Overcoming Social Anxiety: How to Interact With Others." He stared at it for a moment before promptly ripping it up into tiny pieces and throwing them into the road.

Groaning, he rested his head in his hands, rocking back and forth on his heels. He had no money to get back to Palma Campania, let alone to his home three miles from there. He was left with no other option- hitchhike, or walk. Not wanting to have to deal with truckers mistaking him for a girl or the lingering fear that whomever was giving him a ride was a serial killer, which always seemed to haunt him whenever he hitchhiked, he settled for walking.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

The noon sun was glowering on Lovino's back and neck by the time he got to Palma Campania, his dark hair and skin glistening with sweat. It was not actually very hot, rather a pleasant cool, but the light of the sun reflecting off of his almost-black hair just served to make him sweat more. He was acutely aware that he hadn't washed since yesterday morning, nor had he eaten since then either with the exception of wine, coffee, and sugar packets, and that his throat was so parched and dry from all his yelling and coughing and breathing trouble in general that he was surprised it hadn't just cracked in two like the hardened mud he trode on. His shoelaces dragged behind him, he was too tired to actually squat down and tie them. He passed the hospital, the door open, welcoming, yet also somehow appearing sinister in the heat haze. Lovino hesitated in front of it, the image of Roma screaming at him still firmly imprinted in his brain, replaying on a constant loop in the background, but a gust of cool, air-conditioned air hit him like a slap in the face and he made his decision.

He washed his hair in the sink, and took off his shirt and used the soap dispenser, paper towels, and the sink water to scrub himself until his skin was raw and gleaming under the LED lights. Memories of doing this exact same thing in the many public bathrooms and venues back in America, when he had no place to wash, filtered into his mind and distracted him temporarily from the overwhelming, numbing reality that Antonio had left and wasn't coming back, that he was all alone just as he had been back in the home, with countless other children teasing, pulling at his pigtails and skirt; touching, touching, touching him relentlessly, trying to discover 'which' he was, as if there were only two default options; that the only person he had now was one who hated him and did their best to remind him every day of that fact; that he was completely, utterly, undeniably: unlovable and unneeded.

Lovino scrubbed harder, skin aching. The dark, tanned, olive tone gave way to red, clashing horribly with the pale pink of the soap suds. He washed his arms, then under them, and his chest. He was washing his waist, water seeping into his pants, when he saw in the mirror, partially hidden by the soap suds, his scar.

His fingers lingered over it, feeling the minute bump in his skin from where the twisted metal shrapnel had pierced his side as he leaped over his little brother at the last minute, shielding him but ultimately wounding himself. Just last night, a mere handful of hours ago, Antonio had touched him here- nay, caressed, the sensation of his fingers still lingering as if his skin bore a second scar- and now he would never touch him again, never see him. And who, if not Antonio, would touch him now; who, if not Antonio, would love him?

_But he never loved you._

He wasn't sure where the thought had come from, if it were in his head or if he or some unknown person had spoken it aloud, but the fact of it remained, and he knew it was true. Though he had not eaten, he felt nauseous, and his stomach churned emptily, mixing horribly with his hunger pains. Lovino rushed to a toilet, not bothering to close the stall door behind him, and tried to vomit, tried to rid himself of the evil and rage and sadness inside him. He couldn't, and even when he stuck his right hand as far down his throat as he could, all that came up was water and mucus, the contents of his stomach empty. And then he began to laugh, bile dripping off his chin and into the toilet bowl, because that's all he was- empty.

* * *

Though he didn't want to, Lovino's feet carried him down the hall to his grandfather's room. He paused outside, wondering if he should knock, but decided not to. His wet clothes and hair dripping on the linoleum floor, he stepped past the ajar door and into the room.

His grandfather was shielded from view by a lime green curtain that just the sight of made Lovino want to puke again. Yet somehow, ignoring the blinding glare that burned his retinas, he pushed it back and pulled up a chair beside his grandfather's bed. He was asleep, heart monitor beeping peacefully. He watched him sleep, the gentle rising and falling of his chest accompanied with the occasional snort or meaningless grumble calming and soothing. Lovino found himself nodding off as well, and it wasn't long before he was slumped over in his chair, sleeping soundlessly.

* * *

He awoke with a start, and noticed that it was now sunset, the lowering orange sun filtering through the blinds and elongating the surrounding shadows until it seemed they were looming ominously over him. He turned to check the time(a little past five), and noticed with a jolt of panic that his grandfather was awake, watching him curiously.

"Hi," he said shakily, hands gripping the edges of his chair.

"Did you piss yourself?"

"Huh?" Lovino was startled out of his nervousness by the absurdity of the question, and followed Roma's eyes to below the chair, where a small puddle had gathered from the wetness of his clothes.

"No!" he said indignantly. "My clothes got wet." Comprehension registered in the weary brown eyes of his grandfather, but he said nothing. Lovino scooted his chair closer to the bed, flinching at the loud, unholy scraping noise the legs made against the floor.

"H-How are you?" he asked, reaching a hand out instinctively and then faltering, letting it drop back down to his lap.

"How are  _you?"_

"I'm fine!" said Lovino, a little too quickly. Roma rolled his eyes and turned to his side, facing away from him.

"What about you?" he asked again, a tone of desperation in his voice. "How is your hip? Did the doctors say wh-"

"What did he do to you?" interrupted Roma. His voice was quiet, yet somehow it seemed deafening in the tiny room, echoing off the walls.

"Nothing! He's fine!" rushed Lovino, his voice raising several pitches in his panic.

"He left, didn't he?"

Lovino chewed his lip, not wanting to admit it, but knowing he had no choice. He settled for saying nothing, hoping that the absence of words would persuade his grandfather into silence as well.

"I thought so." Roma confirmed everything that Lovino hadn't said. "Those men, they're all the same. You can't trust them."

"He's not-" protested Lovino, but then fell short.

"What, he's not like that? Is that what you wanted to say?" Shadows and light danced across his grandfather's still form, only his jaw and beard moving. Orange-yellow tinted his white beard and the sheets, so it appeared that he was lightly coated in butter. "But he left you, didn't he? He had a girl on the side, didn't he? Or am I wrong?"

"We weren't… like that," said Lovino, a lump swelling in his throat. "We were just friends."

"Were you?"

Lovino slumped over in his chair, digging his fingers through his hair. "I..."

"I was just trying to protect you."

"Wha..?" Lovino lifted his head, slowly, to see Roma had rolled back onto his back, his neck turned to the side so he could see him.

"All of this," he lifted one veined, wrinkled hand, the IV attached to his index finger flashing in the dimming light, "I did for you. I'm trying to help you, to cure you. So you don't fall into the traps of men like  _him."_

"You  _what?"_

"I'm just trying to help you," repeated Roma. "That's all I've been doing. You're confused, and," he let out a small, sarcastic, laugh, "who can blame you, after what your mother did to you?"

Lovino stared at him, aghast. Sadness and defeat gave way to indefatigable, overwhelming anger that boiled inside his veins like a pot ready to overflow.

"You  _can_ change, if you'd just let me-"

"Let you what?" interrupted Lovino. "Let you hit me whenever I cried?"

"It was for your own good," said Roma, voice lowering. His eyes flashed dangerously. "You know, I've been hurting too. But you never stopped to consider  _my_ feelings, did you?"

" _Your_ feelings? Are you fucking kidding me?!" Lovino stood up angrily, the chair falling to the floor with a clattering noise.

"Don't take that tone of voice with me!"

"I'll do whatever the  _fuck_ I want, because according to you, I'm not your grandson anymore!"

Roma stared at him for a moment, his weathered brown eyes sharp with rage. "Sit down," he said quietly.

"No," defied Lovino.

"I said  _sit down!"_ roared Roma, frightening Lovino so much he almost fell over in his panic. Defeated, Lovino picked up the chair again and sat in it, glaring at his grandfather indignantly.

"I just want to help," said his grandfather again, more menacing than sincere. "I don't understand how you can be so ungrateful."

"Ungrateful? What should I be grateful for? For when you kicked me out; for when you refused to speak to me for months; for when you cut me out of your will? Or should I thank you for the times when I slept outside in the snow; when I got sick from eating rotten food in the dumpster behind Burger King; when mold grew in my lungs and I couldn't breathe without the aid of a fucking  _tube?!_ If so, thanks a  _lot!"_

"You.." Roma licked his dry lips nervously, beard quivering. "You never told me about any of that!"

"You didn't listen!" snapped Lovino. Breathing heavily from his rant, he grabbed his duffel bag and stood up, turning to leave.

"Wait," called out Roma, and reluctantly, he turned.

"What?" asked Lovino impatiently.

"I.. I never intended for any of that to happen," said Roma, his eyes pleading.

"Too late," said Lovino coldly, and left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Emma was waiting at the gate for Antonio when he arrived. She looked prettier than ever, in a new dress patterned with sunflowers. It made him want to throw up.

"Hey!" she cried, waving her arms excitedly as he approached. "Toni!"

He forced a smile, his suitcase feeling like a ball and chain dragging behind him as he walked towards her. Her face fell- obviously he was more transparent than he had previously thought.

He stopped, about a foot in front of her.

"Hi," he said, voice hoarse.

She brushed back her bangs impatiently. "What's wrong?" she asked. Antonio didn't know how to answer, so he just decided not to. Still she seemed to understand, and touched his arm lightly, saying,

"It's just three years." Antonio hung his head.

"I know," he muttered. "But still."  _Lovino hates me now,_ he wanted to say.  _And you will, too._

* * *

Almost a week had passed since Antonio left. School had started, and though the work was already piling up on him, he couldn't seem to do it, or much of anything. He just stared at his textbooks and notes and figures until his eyes blurred and it was well past midnight, but was unable to move, to think. He had long since turned his phone off for good, after several texts and missed calls from Emma causing his phone to vibrate almost constantly. He avoided going to the coffee shop, or even passing it, taking a longer, more painstaking route to work so that he wouldn't have to see the warmth inside, the new replacement for Lovino.

* * *

Six months later, Antonio got a letter. It was addressed to him in spiky, messy blue ink. The envelope was crumpled, and when he lifted it, the faint scent of grapes and dish soap permeated the room. There was no return address.

Fumbling, he opened the envelope, accidentally ripping it in the process. He swore, and then apologized as if the envelope could hear him. With trembling fingers, he reached inside and pulled out the letter, scrawled in the same handwriting.

_He dyed yesterday,_ it read.  _His last words was 'where's Feliciano?'_

There was no signature, but Antonio already knew who had sent it. He traced his fingers over the wrinkled paper, hoping to find something in the words, in the blue ink blotched by tears, but he found nothing. There was a strand of hair caught in the folds of the paper, and it glistened dark brown by his lamplight. Antonio picked it up, held it to the light. Then, for a reason he did not know- perhaps to rid himself of the emptiness, sitting in his bowels and threatening to consume him- he put it in his mouth. It sat on his tongue, itching uncomfortably against the roof of his mouth. It tasted like nothing. He swallowed, then carefully folded the note back up and placed it in the envelope, which he put under his pillow, with the thank you note Lovino had written him so long ago and the photo he had taken of him while he was in the hospital: red-faced, angry yet still smiling, looking beautiful in a way Antonio would never get to see again.

 


	31. Rocky Horror Reunion

It was almost five years exactly since they had first met when Antonio stumbled into the closest E-Z Mart at nine forty-seven on a Friday night a week before Halloween, looking to buy a feather boa and gold lamé booty shorts.

The club dress-up showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show started at ten, and he had promised his friends he would be Rocky, so that Francis could be Dr. Frank N' Furter and Gilbert could be Riff Raff, hence the need for gold lamé shorts and, if possible, some oil he could rub on himself to make it look like he hadn't neglected working out for two months.

The feather boa was inconsequential. He just really, really, wanted a feather boa.

He found the feather boa easily- "For your daughter?" the shop clerk had asked when he told them he was looking for a boa, to which he responded in all serious, "It's for me." They had looked shocked, and a little bit concerned, but had helped him to the costume section, where thankfully everything was on sale due to the upcoming holiday. The booty shorts had been a bit harder to find, but he found a (sort of) mustard colored pair of boxer briefs that hopefully he could glue glitter onto before the show. He gathered glitter, glue, and baby oil, along with his other things, and made it to the check-out booth with the shortest line.

He dumped the things on the conveyor belt and moved to the till without looking up, taking a ten dollar bill from his pocket. He noticed with distaste that it was the last of his money, and that his paycheck didn't come for another week.

"Good evening sir, how are you?" asked a bored, melodic voice. It sounded strangely, painfully, familiar, with a thick accent that for some reason brought about the smell of grapes.

"Fine, fine," muttered Antonio, placing the ten on the counter and rifling through his pockets. He hoped to god that the sum came under ten dollars- if not, he'd have to say goodbye to his brand new, unnecessary pink feather boa which he had already christened Carlos.

"I'm sorry, sir, your total is eleven twenty-four."

"Shit," cursed Antonio under his breath, checking his back pockets and wallet. Didn't he usually keep a twenty dollar bill inside his phone case for emergencies? No, he remembered, he had squandered it on three tubs of ice cream because the season finale of his favorite show had been very emotional and he needed ice cream to get through the pain. Goddamn his childlike sensibility to cartoon characters dying and his intense need for masses of ice cream to deal with anything.

He heard a rustle above him, and then a slender, light brown hand extended. Clutched in its long fingers was a dollar bill, and as the fingers unfurled delicately like a flower revealing its petals to the world, there was a single quarter in the palm.

"Th-thanks so much," Antonio stammered nervously. He reached out and took the money, fingers brushing against the clerk's smooth hand briefly. A shock of static electricity jolted him, ran from the tips of his fingers all the way through his body. The clerk seemed to have felt it too, for they recoiled immediately.

"Sorry," he apologized instantly, looking up. "I-" He paused, at a loss for words.

His skin was several tones darker, as was his hair, which was scruffy and unkempt, the back uneven. He cuts his own hair, Antonio remembered suddenly, feeling as if another wave of electricity had just zapped him in the chest. He was a couple inches taller, but still shorter than Antonio by far, and his jaw was harder, more angular, making him look slightly more masculine but still retaining the same androgynous look he had always loved to admire. The first button on his collar was unbuttoned, exposing his neck and the shadow of a collarbone- if only he could see the rest, he thought briefly- yet despite these minute changes, he was still, radiantly, undeniably, Lovino.

"Lovi..?" managed Antonio, reaching out and then hesitating. Lovino's eyes- oh god, his eyes, Antonio had somehow forgotten how beautiful they were- flashed green.

In an instant he grabbed the plastic stick that served as a lane divider and, screeching angrily, began to whack Antonio over the head with it.

"Ow- hey, Lovi-" Antonio raised his arms above his head, trying to protect himself, but Lovino only hit harder, calling for security in the intercom device. A fat man in a black security suit came jogging over, holding his pants up by the belt. He surveyed the scene for a couple seconds, before seizing Lovino under the arms and attempting to drag him, kicking and swearing in Italian, away.

"I- I'm so sorry, sir," he apologized, mustache twitching nervously. "I'll have him fired immediately- just please don't call the police."

"No, no, it's fine," said Antonio hastily. "Don't fire him. He's my friend."

"We are not friends!" snarled Lovino, spitting at him. It landed on the toe of Antonio's shoe, and he rubbed it off on the back of his jeans, balancing awkwardly.

"Ha, ha, very funny," laughed Antonio falsely, trying to convince the security guard that this was all some elaborate prank in order to stop Lovino from losing his job. He looked at Lovino intently, trying to send a message to him somehow that he was trying to help. Thankfully, he seemed to understand and stopped struggling, breaking free of the guard's grip and stepping towards Antonio with a forced, twitching smile on his face.

"Friends," he chuckled loudly, slapping Antonio on the shoulder.  _"Friends."_  He cast a glare at the security guard, who quailed and returned to his post, glancing at the pair of them nervously, hand on his belt. Lovino waved at him jerkily, before turning back to Antonio.

He grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him towards himself violently. "You fucking  _asshole,"_  he hissed. "What the fuck do you think you are doing, coming here and-"

"Everything okay over there?" hollered the security guard, rolling his weight back and forth between his heels so that his shiny bald head bobbed up and down, flashing in the dimmed light of the E-Z Mart.

"Yeah," Lovino called back, contorting his face into a smile that looked more like a grimace. His eye twitched with the effort. "Fine. We're fine." He glanced over Antonio's head, at the clock on the wall, then relinquished his grip on his collar.

"My shifts over," he grumbled, stepping back. He unpinned the E-Z Mart cap from his unruly dark hair and lifted the apron over his head, taking off the nametag. He folded them and placed them carefully in a plastic bag, then signed off a small piece of paper. He talked briefly with the night guard, signed something else, and then returned to his till, turning the light off and taking his plastic bag. Realizing that the person he had restlessly waited to see again was once more slipping away, Antonio called out,

"Wait!"

Lovino stopped short of the automatic doors. His grip tightened around the handle of his plastic bag, knuckles white. The glass doors  _whoosh_ ed open, a gust of cool night air ruffling his dark hair and t-shirt.

"What do you want?"

"Can I- can we talk?"

Lovino paused, deliberating. After what seemed like decades, he spoke. "Fine," he said. "But it has to be quick." And with that, he walked out of the store.

It took a moment for Antonio to remember to follow, and another to run back and grab Carlos and the rest of his Rocky Horror gear. He said a silent apology to his friends in his head for missing the show, and jogged ahead to catch up with Lovino.

* * *

He was waiting outside, tapping his foot impatiently. Yellow lamplight pooled in the hollows of his cheeks and folds of his shirt, and when he looked up, it was reflected in his irises like a light shining from within.

"Sorry," apologized Antonio, clutching his bag. Lovino shrugged and swung his plastic bag into the crook of his elbow, reaching into his back pocket with his other hand and drawing out a small white box with a red stripe across the front. From his sweatshirt pocket he produced a blue Bic lighter, and as he shook the white box with the red stripe, a white cylinder revealed itself. It was only then that Antonio realized it was a cigarette, and he raced over and smacked it out of Lovino's hand.

"The fuck?!" exclaimed Lovino angrily, picking up his box- it flashed briefly in the lamplight and Antonio saw it was Marlboro's- and shaking it, checking to see if the contents were safe.

"Th-Those things will kill you!" cried Antonio. "They'll shrivel your lungs and fill them with tar and then you'll-"

"Shush," Lovino shushed him, clicking the lighter open. On the third try, it lighted, and with delicate precision he lighted the end of his cigarette, placing both the lighter and Marlboro's box in his sweatshirt pocket.

"No, really!" insisted Antonio fervently. "Your lungs must still be bad from the pneumonia, so-" he broke off, coughing, as Lovino blew smoke into his face.

"I told you to shush," he warned him, beginning to walk. "If you don't stop going on about it, I'll leave and you won't see me again."

Antonio bit his lip, suppressing an argument. "Fine," he wavered, and quickly strode to Lovino's side.

"So, um, how've you been?" he asked nervously. For years he had dreamed of what he would say, would do, when he was finally reunited with Lovino, yet now all his preparation failed him.

"Fine," said Lovino concisely, drawing on his cigarette heavily as if he relied upon it for air. His accent was thicker than it used to be, Antonio reflected, or it could possibly be that he just hadn't seen or heard him for so long that the once-familiar accent was now foreign. The thought made him sad, for some reason, and he fought to stifle it.

"I was sorry to hear about your grandad," he said. "That letter was you, right?"

Lovino stopped briefly, clutching his plastic bag so hard his knuckles were white. "Yeah," he said finally, beginning to walk again. Smoke blew from his nostrils and mouth as he spoke and rose into the air in tendrils, following him dedicatedly.

"When'd you get back to America?" asked Antonio.

"Couple months ago. Feli got me a green card, so it's okay," said Lovino quickly, drawing again on his cigarette, the tip glowing orange as he puffed.

"That's good." Antonio nodded, racking his brain for things to say. Instead, it was Lovino who spoke, startling him.

"How's Emma?" he asked, eyes staring off into the distance, glassy and unfocused.

"Uh.." Antonio scratched the back of his neck. "Fine, I guess."

"You guess?" Lovino turned to him, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"We broke up. A couple weeks after I… uh.."

"Abandoned me heartlessly in an airport with a relative who hated me?" suggested Lovino humorlessly.

"Yeah," admitted Antonio abashedly, unsure of whether he should laugh or not. "I'm, uh, sorry for that, by the way."

It was dark, so Antonio wasn't sure if this was his imagination or not, but in the flickering light of the cigarette he thought he saw Lovino roll his eyes.

Lovino checked his watch, holding it to the end of his cigarettes so he could see the time, then quickened his pace.

"Where are we going?" asked Antonio, looking around at the surrounding area doubtfully.

"The park, so I can eat dinner, and then I'm going to my next job."

"Your  _next_  job? But it's already so late!"

Lovino shrugged. "It's not that big a deal." He stopped suddenly, causing Antonio to almost run into him, but he caught himself in time. He seated himself on a bench, and Antonio sat beside him, watching as he took something from his bag.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Avocado," replied Lovino, slicing it open with a small knife he took from inside his sock. He washed it in the nearby water fountain, then concealed it once more. From the depths of his bag he procured a plastic spoon, and a small Ziploc bag full of a thin brown liquid. He cut slits into the avocado, then poured the liquid which Antonio recognized as vinegar, mixed with something else, judging by the smell- onto the avocado, where it seeped into the slits. He did this with both halves, which he had balanced on his bony knees, and then began to scoop bits of vinegary avocado out and eat it delicately.

"That's your dinner?" asked Antonio skeptically.

"Yeah. So?" Lovino looked at Antonio pointedly, a fierce glint in his eyes. He wisely decided to abandon the subject.

"So how many jobs are you working?" he asked.

"Two."

 _"Two?_  When do you sleep?"

"From around six am when my first job ends, until a bit before one pm, when my E-Z Mart shift starts."

"Holy shit." Antonio stared at him, wide-eyed in astonishment. "Why do you need to work so much? Do you have a kid or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Lovino stood up, disposing of the picked-clean avocado shells in the nearby trash can. He began to walk, then paused, calling over his shoulder,

"C'mon. I'll be late."

* * *

As he walked, he had Antonio hold his bag, which was surprisingly heavy, while he shimmied out of his sweatshirt and threw on a thin red button-up t-shirt, buttoning it all the way up to his collar. A golden 'M' embroidered on the pocket glimmered in the dark. He placed a red visor on his forehead, brushing back his bangs impatiently.

"You work at McDonald's?" asked Antonio, watching him curiously.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Lovino frowned. "What do you mean, 'why?' I work because I work."

"But why do you need that much money? Shouldn't working one job be enough?"

Lovino groaned, adjusting his visor. "If I just worked at McDonalds full-time, I'd earn around $15,000 a year, and a little more than that if just worked at E-Z Mart. On the bare minimum, I usually spend around $14,000 a year, and that's not including doctor's visits, occasional treats or presents, or insurance."

"But then what about all that surplus money?"

Lovino pursed his lips, coming to a stop in front of the familiar stucco building, the golden M shining in the night like a beacon.

"Tie my apron?" Lovino dodged the question, holding the strings out for Antonio.

"Sure." Antonio placed the bag on the ground and stopped, taking the strings into his hands, which seemed too large for the small strips of fabric. His fingers brushed against Lovino's briefly, and he heard a sharp intake of breath as Lovino quickly pulled his away, folding them first against his chest, then crossing them, then shoving them in his pockets, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

"Stop fidgeting," said Antonio irritably, thick fingers fumbling with the strings. "You're making it harder for me to tie your apron."

"Maybe you just suck at tying aprons," grumbled Lovino, kicking Antonio lightly on the inside of his ankle with his heel.

"Hey," chastised Antonio, though despite himself, he was grinning. Finally he managed to tie and double knot the apron and stepped back, admiring at first his handwork, although he found his eyes wandering, surveying the slope of his back, his thin waist and hips.

"I have to go," Lovino interrupted, pulling a key from his back pocket and taking his bag back from Antonio. He unlocked the back door and stepped in, a gust of hot oily air warming his cheeks. For a moment Lovino stood, illuminated by the cold yellow light and the sounds of fryers clunking and bubbling oil, until the door slammed shut behind him and he was lost.


	32. Carajillo

It was a long night, with a group of stoners coming in at four am and ordering enough food to feed a family of four for several days; someone who bought just three large orders of fries and nothing else, all of which were, to Lovino's displeasure, no salt; and worst of all, a young couple with a screaming baby that they didn't know how to shush and instead just waited, hoping it would shut up eventually. It didn't. Even though he wasn't working the register that night, Lovino could hear it wailing all the way from the back, over the bubbling of the fryer.

Though he refused to admit it, the encounter with Antonio had shaken him quite a bit. He noticed his hands were trembling, and several times he forgot to step back after he dropped the basket of fries into the fryer and the grease bubbled and popped, splashing on his skin. Red spots burned into the brown of his forearms, already pockmarked with spots and scars from previous accidents, and he swore violently under his breath. This was all Antonio's fault, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not this time.

He had been too lenient, he thought, back at the E-Z Mart. He had even let him walk him to his next job!- too risky, he decided, it might encourage Antonio; make him believe that everything was alright between them, when it wasn't.

He couldn't let things escalate between him and Antonio to anything over enemies, or at the most, acquaintances, for he knew what would happen if they did: he'd begin to forgive him, to trust him again. And as soon as he handed his heart over to Antonio, he'd crush it; just like he did when he told Lovino he had a girlfriend; just like he did when he abandoned him in the airport with no hope of ever seeing him again.

* * *

 Lovino slept restlessly that night, for a while unable to fall asleep even though he was exhausted, and then, once asleep, woke frequently, tormented by the same repeating dream: white walls, shining so hard it hurt to look at them, and shoddily done  _pietra dura_ beneath him, cold and hard like ice. There was the feeling that something was leaving, something precious, yet he didn't know what, and couldn't move his head to see what it was. He was being dragged, slowly, on the floors, glistening stone beneath his fingers and he searched for a crack, a ledge, something to dig his fingernails into to curb his movement. There was nothing, except the screech of his nails against the viciously shining floor.

He was already awake when his alarm rang at 11:45 and had been for quite some while. Propped up against the wall, smoke filtering in and out of his mouth lazily, he stared at a crack in the ceiling. A spider, dancing on a single glistening strand, was lowering itself slowly, stopping every so often just to dangle, as if it enjoyed the view, before continuing its work. There was a glass of red wine in his hand, half empty- never half-full, he had come from a long line of pessimists and wasn't about to change that anytime soon- but for once he was ignoring it with a sort of half-hearted vigilance that broke every now and then, allowing him to glance at it, swirl it around, take a sip, and then drop it again for another ten minutes. His mouth felt dry, and the combination of cigarette and gas station wine was not a pleasant one, nor strong enough for him to even feel the slightest buzz. He closed his eyes wearily.

 _God,_ what he'd give to stay holed up in his room and get wasted out of his mind, clear out the crate in the corner of the liquor he had amassed in the past few months, but there was work to be done and a paycheck to be collected, and he needed that paycheck like he needed another drink, the emptiness of 35 cent Taco Bell bean and rice tacos and tinned, watery tomatoes catching up to him and his hollow stomach.

The alarm was really starting to bother him now, and though he wanted to be faithful to his mid-morning laziness, he couldn't resist shooting out an arm and punching the clock. It fell out the window, and a warbled, far away beeping was still audible from his room on the second floor. The spider, startled by the sudden movement, fell off its string and scuttled away into the corner behind a pair of dirty socks he had yet to clean. Lovino cursed and drained the glass of wine, placing both hands on his knees and pushing to give him a boost as he stood up, stumbling a little.

He was already dressed, and washed, but he brushed his teeth again to hide his wine-breath. He washed his glass, and made a pot of coffee, drinking the first cup straight out of the pot, the black liquid burning his tongue and throat. The second he poured into a metal bottle to bring with him to work. He hesitated before closing it, deciding on second thought that a little  _caffe coretto_ wouldn't hurt, yet, he had no  _grappa_ or  _sambuca,_ nor even espresso. He had rum, he remembered, and found an old bottle in the crate he dubbed his alcohol closet, and poured a sizable amount in, shaking the bottle to get the last drops out.

" _Carajillo,"_ he muttered to himself, inhaling deeply, and with the familiar scent came old memories- that one Spanish nun at the home always making herself  _carajillo_ and letting Lovino have a sip, Sister Capello, wasn't it; the old smell of coffee and rum lingering in his  _nonno_ 's beard, making him sneeze; his mother, waking them in the middle of the night and handing him a mug of  _carajillo_ or orange juice with vodka to keep them awake as they fled to a new home before her boyfriend woke up; the many, many steaming mugs he'd made himself after Antonio left, because he didn't want to go to sleep and return to the mattress where they had almost kissed, almost joined as one, before he fucked it all up.

Lovino closed his eyes, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He took a deep breath, counted to ten, then another, and placed the lid on the bottle. He picked up his bag containing his McDonald's uniform, lunch, and dinner, and headed down the stairs and out the doors.

* * *

 

He was barely a block away from home when he heard a clunking from far away, and a cloud of exhaust rolled up like a storm and engulfed him as he coughed, choking, tears forming in his eyes. The clunking and loud bangs grew louder, and when he managed to open his eyes in the plume of noxious exhaust fumes, he saw what appeared to be the ugliest car he had ever seen, if it could even be called a car.

The color, make, and model were all unidentifiable, it was so decrepit and coated in a mixture of dirt and bird shit that seemed to be at least an inch thick; there was so much duct tape, tarp, and even frayed rope in bits, holding it together that it was hard to see the actual car. Two windows were smashed, and a third had tarp taped hazardously over the gaping hole, and it flapped in the wind. A rear headlight was smashed, and a flashlight had been duct taped on in its place with Hello Kitty duct tape. The owner of the car seemed to have a childlike sense of style, for the numerous styles of duct tape striping the car were all that of a fourth-grader's back-to-school kit: leopard print, sparkly pink, penguins, turtles, camoflauge, rainbow, tie-dye, princesses, high heeled shoes, and of course, Hello Kitty.

It slowed to a stop next to him, and the window rolled down halfway, then got stuck, but Lovino could see Antonio's familiar green eyes peering over the edge of the glass.

"Can I give you a ride?" he asked, and though he couldn't see his mouth, Lovino knew he was smiling from the crinkling of his eyes.

"No," Lovino tried to say, but the refusal was overwhelmed by coughs from the gas.

"Admiring my car, are you?" Antonio beamed proudly. "She's a real beauty- most people are so shocked they can't even speak!"

"That's because it's a fucking shit car," choked Lovino, clutching his chest as he doubled over, tears forming in his eyes.

"Wha-  _no!"_ gasped Antonio, covering his mouth with his hand scandalously. "Don't say that, you'll hurt her feelings!"

 _"Her_ feelings?! It's a fucking car!"

"Her name's Betsy," pouted Antonio, crossing his arms and sticking out his bottom lip like an upset child. "And don't swear around her, she doesn't like that."

"Oh my god." Lovino rubbed his temples with his fingers, his head beginning to ache from the gas. "Look, I gots to get to work, I can't stand around talking." He began to walk again, eager to escape the cloud of fumes.

"Wait- let me give you a ride! It'll be faster that way!" called Antonio out the window desperately, attempting futilely to start his engine up again and follow Lovino. For a split second, the wreck of a car rolled forward, but then a great bang resounded and smoke began pouring from underneath the hood, fogging up the window. Struggling furiously with the controls, Antonio watched helplessly as Lovino walked further and further away until the window clouded up, completely obscuring his view.

* * *

 

It was late that night, around 9:45 when Antonio walked in up to Lovino's checkout counter and placed a bouquet, a dozen red roses, on the conveyor belt.

"Flowers go to floral checkout," Lovino said lazily, jerking his head towards a separate counter where a very bored blond clerk with ridiculously large and bushy eyebrows, wearing his E-Z Mart vest inside out over a too-small knitted sweater in a horrid shade of green was leafing through a year's old bridal magazine.

"I already bought them," Antonio grinned toothily, like a proud child. "They're for you."

He picked them up and handed them to Lovino, who took it delicately from him with only his forefinger and thumb, holding it at arm's length as if he were handling something slimy or gross.

"Wow, roses," enthused Lovino sarcastically. He relaxed his hand and let the bouquet drop to the floor, eyes widening in mock surprise. "Oops." He lifted his foot and stomped on the buds, hard. "Oops." He stepped on them again, grinding them into the floor with his heel, little velvety red petals sticking to the soles of his shoes.

"Wow, I'm really-" Step. "- _clumsy_ today." Step. "Don't you think?" He stared straight into Antonio's eyes, trying to channel all his rage and anger and hurt from the past years into his glare; yet when Antonio's face fell, his whole body seeming to wilt with the flowers that Lovino trode repeatedly on, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse, of guilt.

"Fine." Antonio gave an awkward, shaky smile, taking a step back. "I, uh, I'll see you when your shift ends at McDonalds, then? To give you a ride?"

"You can come, but I won't let you give me a ride."

"Right." Antonio laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a familiar gesture, one he always did when he was embarrassed, and remembering this after so long made Lovino feel strangely lonely even though he was standing right in front of him.

"Fuck," he grumbled, resolve cracking slightly under the guilt from seeing Antonio's withered expression. "You- you can walk me to my next job, okay? Just don't, like, cry or something."

* * *

 

Lovino closed the register a bit late that night in order to avoid Antonio for as long as possible, and it was 10:12 when he met him outside the west exit sliding doors like he had the night before, doused in yellow light. A moth abandoned the lamp and fluttered towards the end of his glowing cigarette as he lit it, and the flame burnt its left wing and it fell, spiraling to the ground, flapping with its remaining wing desperately. It sizzled against the asphalt, and Lovino crushed it with the toe of his shoe before looking up, cigarette dangling from his lower lip.

"How was work?" asked Antonio, fidgeting anxiously as if Lovino might yell at him again or stomp on any more of his belongings.

He shrugged, blowing smoke out his mouth. Wordlessly, he swung his bag into the crook of his elbow and began to walk, figuring that perhaps if he didn't talk to Antonio, he'd get bored or discouraged and just leave.

"I, uh, I got you Olive Garden," said Antonio, holding out a take-out container. "I thought you'd like it since it's, you know, Italian food and all."

Lovino scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"W-What? Is something wrong?" asked Antonio nervously.

"Olive Garden," explained Lovino slowly, diminutively, as if talking to a particularly slow child, "is not Italian food."

Antonio looked down at the take-out container in hand. "Oh," he said, voice small. "Oh."

"Well, if you don't want it I'll-"

"I never said I didn't wanted it," said Lovino quickly, snatching it out of his hand. He found a bench, the back emblazoned with a bright red ad for a real estate agent by the name of Jones, and sat, opening the container.

"Fork," he said, holding out his hand. Antonio dug around in the plastic Olive Garden bag and drew out one, along with a knife and a napkin, which he handed to Lovino.

"Oh, and I also got you a Coke. Diet," added Antonio, placing it on the bench by Lovino's thigh. Lovino watched him suspiciously for a moment before opening it and taking a swig, maintaining eye contact as if Antonio might put something in it. "Thanks," he said slowly. He opened the styrofoam take-out container and speared a tomato slice with his fork, but did not pick it up or make any move to eat it.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked quietly.

"Huh?" asked Antonio, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I  _said,_  why are you being so nice to me?" repeated Lovino.

Antonio blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you hate me," said Lovino, as if it were obvious. Antonio frowned.

"I don't hate you," he said quickly. "How could you even  _think_ that?!"

"Because you left!" blurted Lovino loudly. Several startled sparrows fluttered from a branch and alighted on a separate tree, the flapping of their wings piercing in the still night. "You left me there, with- with  _him,_ and never came back! You never even called, or wrote, or  _anything!_  You just… left."

"But I didn't do that because I hate you!" protested Antonio.

"Then why?! Why'd you do it?" Lovino's grip tightened on the plastic fork until it was near breaking. "Because I didn't  _fuck_ you?! Is that it? If I had just laid there, and let you… let you  _f-fuck_  me, would you have stayed?!" Lovino's lower lip trembled, and he stuttered as he spoke.

" _No!_ It's not that at all!"

"Then what was it?! What did I do wrong?!"

"Nothing! Lovi, you did nothing wrong!" Antonio reached out a hand to touch him, but was smacked violently away.

"Don't you fucking  _touch_ me!" spat Lovino. "And don't call me Lovi!"

"I- I'm sorry." Antonio withdrew his arm, wringing his hands nervously. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I was going to tell you, but I just… forgot."

"You forgot to tell me that you were leaving and I couldn't come with you or ever see you again." Lovino tilted his head skeptically. "Really."

"Okay, fine, I just- I didn't want to hurt you."

"So you decided to hurt me more by leading me on to believe that everything was fine and then abandoning me at the last moment."

Antonio paused. "...yes," he admitted. Lovino stared at him a moment longer, then picked up his fork again and began to eat.

"You're really stupid, you know that?" he said thickly, through a mouthful of pasta.

Antonio sighed, staring at his feet. "Yeah."

* * *

 

Antonio tied Lovino's apron for him in the parking lot behind the McDonald's.

"Have a good day," he said, then paused. "Have a good night? Morning?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, adjusting his visor and brushing his bangs to the side. He opened the door and stepped in, then hesitated before closing it.

"I'll pay you back for the roses," he said. "And have a good night, too."

* * *

 

It was 5:20 when Antonio woke in the backseat of his car, where he had been sleeping while waiting for Lovino, to the sound of footsteps. Quickly he threw on a shirt and leapt out of the backseat to greet him.

"Good morning!" he beamed, trying to act like he hadn't just woken up, but Lovino just swept past him, yawning. He stuffed his earbuds in his ears, and pressed play on a small red Walkman.

"You're out early," Antonio said, trying to instigate conversation. Lovino paused, turned his head, and pulled one earbud out of his ear.

"Yeah," he said darkly, and Antonio could tell he was really angry about something.

"Isn't that, uh, good?" he smiled lopsidedly, realizing that his shirt was inside out  _and_ backwards.

"No," said Lovino, as if the answer were obvious. "It means I get less pay."

"But you get to sleep more! That's good, right?"

Lovino stared at him a moment longer. His eyes were drooping with tiredness, and bags dark as bruises hung underneath. "Whatever," he said slowly, and put the earbud back in his ear.

"Wait!" Antonio called after him as he began to walk away again. "Can I give you a ride?"

Lovino didn't answer, burying his hands in his pockets and walking, have stumbling with sleep, home.

* * *

_Hi, I'm so sorry for the hiatus. I am now (ironically) working two jobs, although not to the extent that Lovino is in this story. I don't have much time to write, and although I am not abandoning this story, there will most likely be long waits inbetween chapters until I get back on my feet and am able to quit one of my jobs. I'm very sorry, and thank you for bearing with me during this time._

 


	33. Tell Me The Truth

A little over a week passed, in the pattern of Antonio offering to give Lovino rides to and from work, and him always declining; and Antonio showing up before his E-Z Mart shift was over, usually with a gift of some sort and dinner, before walking him to McDonalds. Lovino stopped refusing or destroying his gifts, although he still wouldn't allow Antonio to give him a ride; and Antonio stopped trying to talk about the past or anything relating to Lovino, for Lovino would always clam up and end the conversation if it ever turned to himself or what they had been before, or what had happened in the four years he had been gone.

Although neither of them were honest with each other, or even remotely okay or over what had happened all those years ago; they reached a kind of familiarity, where Antonio had accepted that Lovino was pissed at him, and Lovino had accepted that Antonio wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how mean he was to him. That didn't stop him from trying, however.

At least not until a week and two days passed since they had met again.

It began like any other evening, with Antonio visiting Lovino during his E-Z Mart shift- he bought Lovino Aster flowers this time; "They mean patience," he had said, handing them to him over the counter with a deep, flamboyant bow which made all the other customers stare- and watched as Lovino ate dinner before taking him to his next job at McDonald's.

As soon as he walked in, he was handed a mop.

"Thank god you're here," said his manager gratefully. "There's been an accident in the PlayPlace. You'll want to double up your gloves," he added in a hush.

"Okay," said Lovino slowly, processing the information. Everyone in the kitchen seemed to be looking at him with a grim expression. "Where in the PlayPlace is it?"

The manager looked down, as if he couldn't bear to look Lovino in the eyes. "Everywhere," he said, voice barely a whisper.

* * *

As soon as Lovino stepped into the PlayPlace, the smell hit him like a wave- he staggered backwards, clapping a gloved hand over his nose and mouth. He could barely breathe.

Eyes stinging from the stench, he managed to take a couple steps, and then another few, until he was mostly mobile again. It wasn't the first time he had cleaned up feces in the PlayPlace, but this was on a whole new level- shit was  _everywhere;_ on the slide, coating balls in the ballpit, through the tubes. It was smeared on walls, and there were little brown puddles in some of the tubes, and handprints to match. He couldn't believe just one kid had had such explosive diarrhea- it must have been a conspiracy, a shit orgy, just to punish him- he longed to just quit on the spot. But he needed the money, the meager $8.25 an hour, and it wouldn't be much different at Burger King, or KFC, or Chuck-e Cheese.

Feeling nauseous, he approached the first shit-pile trepidatiously. He wondered how much a gas mask cost, and if he could fit that into his monthly expenses somehow.

He looked back through the doors of the PlayPlace. Luis, at the register, gave him a small, sad smile.

"Good luck," he mouthed. Lovino nodded back, turned, set his shoulders, and began to clean.

It was hard work, scrubbing the spread feces off the twisty slide while balancing awkwardly, trying not to fall into the pile of shit-coated balls below him. Every time he finished one spot, there'd be another to clean and move on to, and after a while he felt his brain begin to shut down. He followed the trail of shit, cleaning dutifully on autopilot. His whole mind felt numb, and his back and thighs ached from bending over and squatting to clean the mess.

He felt distant, somehow, as if this weren't  _really_ happening to him; as if he were separate in mind and body, his conscience floating above himself, watching, as he wiped shit from the sides of tubes. The smell, the disgust- these were all false, imagined- he was really back home, except this home had a bathtub and he was in it, with bubbles up to his chest- he was drinking wine, real wine, from a bottle, not the gas station boxed wine he had become accustomed to. He was a real person, with free time and money and a hot water tank- yes, surely that was reality, and this was all some horrible, filthy dream and any moment now, he'd wake up to a better tomorrow.

* * *

It took almost the whole night to clean the PlayPlace. He finished around 4:30 am and, for once, wanted to go home early. Fuck the extra $20, he needed sleep and a bottle of red wine- he had an unopened 2009 Chianti he'd been dying to try- and a long shower. Yet when he finished, and washed his hands up to his elbows in the sink, the manager approached him again.

"Urinal's clogged," he said.

"And?" asked Lovino wearily, although he already knew the answer.

"Fix it."

"How?"

His manager paused. "Make it not clogged."

Lovino chewed his lip.  _Can't you just hire a plumber?_ he was dying to ask, but he had only been working there for two months and was very easily replaceable.

"Oh," his manager added after a second, handing him a bucket and a cup. "You'll need these."

"What for?"

"The pee," he called over his shoulder, hurrying back to the kitchen. Lovino looked down at the cup in his hand.

 _Wake up,_ he willed himself.  _Wake up and make this nightmare disappear._

But he couldn't. He had a urinal to clean.

* * *

The bathroom door creaked eerily as he opened it. He smelled the urinal before he saw it.

It was full of pee, to the point of overflowing; and, judging by the puddle on the floor beneath it, it had. Evidently customers had just kept peeing in it instead of using another urinal.

The pit of disgust and nausea in Lovino's stomach grew, churning unpleasantly. As he reached out with one double-gloved hand, clutching the cup, he saw it was shaking.

Lovino held his breath, then counted to three before finally forcing himself to stick his hand into the piss-pool and scoop out a cup. The gloves he were wearing were the flimsy sandwich making gloves, and had no suction at all. When he drew out his hand, the glove fingers were filled with pee.

It took twenty minutes to scoop all of the pee out of the urinal and into the bucket. During that time, his gloves fell off a total of eight times, and were almost always filled with piss when he took them out. Eventually he just gave up on them completely and resigned himself to plunging his bare hands into lukewarm piss.

The source of the clogging turned out to be simple enough: an almost two foot long mass of matted pubic hairs and god knew what else. Lovino had to pull it, hand-over-hand, from the drain- it seemed determined to stay put, clinging to the sides of the drain. When he finally managed to yank it out, the momentum and power in his pull caused the two-foot long pubic monstrosity to leap into the air, causing an arc of yellow piss to shower down on Lovino and the rest of the bathroom, before falling in a manner less than graceful and slapping him square in the face.

There was one moment: one horrible, awful, disgusting moment, where Lovino could feel it slithering down his face, dripping down his collar and off the bridge of his nose, before he was able to move again and snatch it from his face and toss it into the bucket. Afraid to open his eyes in case piss dripped in them, he felt around for the sink and stuck as much of his body under the tap as he could. Chest heaving, he gripped the sides of the sink for support. It was a while before he turned off the tap, but his heart was still racing, stomach still churning.

* * *

Antonio woke, as usual, to the sound of the door closing. He checked his phone: 6:32, later than usual. Groaning, he fumbled around in the backseat until he found a shirt and was beginning to pull it on when he heard a noise that he was not used to hearing. It sounded like something large and wet hitting concrete, and as he stuck his head mistakenly through one of the sleeves of the shirt, he saw through the fabric that it was Lovino, projectile vomiting by one of the trash cans.

Antonio swore and abandoned his attempts at putting the shirt on and leapt out of the car, rushing over to Lovino.

"Lovi!" he called, almost tripping over his shoelaces but righting himself at the last second. "Lovi! Hey, Lovi, you okay?" He reached his friend, but got no response. Nervously he placed a hand on his heaving shoulder.

"You're wet," he realized aloud, brushing back Lovino's bangs. "Why are you wet?"

"I-" Lovino began to say, but was interrupted as another volley of puke came spurting out his mouth. He had both hands on the dumpster and was leaning heavily on them, but they were shaking perilously beneath him.

Antonio was amazed at how much Lovino was able to vomit. He had barely eaten, to the best of his knowledge, having only an apple and peanut butter for dinner and a hard-boiled egg for breakfast.

It was several minutes before the vomiting finished completely, and even then, Lovino stayed hunched over, breathing heavily.

"You good?" asked Antonio, rubbing his back. Lovino paused, straightening up. He stumbled, beginning to fall, but Antonio caught him in time and hauled him back to his feet. He stood silently, shifting his weight from foot to foot, still swaying a little.

"Yeah," he croaked, bile hanging from his lower lip. He took a step forward, but his ankle trembled beneath him and he tumbled to the ground; yet again, Antonio grabbed him. He draped his arm around his shoulders and brought him to his car. Lovino leaned against it, sinking to a sitting position on the concrete. Antonio joined him.

"Sorry," Lovino apologized. "Just a bit… dizzy."

"No, no, it's fine." Antonio paused. "Are you okay? Are you sick or something?"

Lovino shook his head.

"Then what happened? Did you eat something bad?"

"No, nothing like that." Lovino pursed his lips, afraid if he said it aloud it might solidify what he wished was just a dream into reality. "Some kid, uh.. shat. In the PlayPlace."

Antonio's expression changed from one of concern to disgust. "Where in the PlayPlace?"

Lovino groaned, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. "Everywhere," he mumbled, voice low. "The slide, the ballpit, the tubes- even the fucking  _walls,_ oh god, it was-" he broke off, feeling nauseous again.

"For real? And they made you  _clean_ it?! How could you?"

"What else would I do?" sighed Lovino, tossing his head upwards. The sun was beginning to peek out from behind purple clouds, the sky streaked with pink in the dawn; like the delicate, inside whorls of a conch shell, mother pearl peeking out cheekily.

"Quit?" suggested Antonio.

"Nah, I need this job. Plus, they mentioned that if I keep up the good performance, I might be promoted to shift or even kitchen manager, and they get $12 an hour."

"$12 an hour? That's pretty good." Antonio frowned. "That still doesn't explain why you're wet, though."

"The urinal was clogged, so they had me unclog it. I had to-" Lovino broke off, laughing sourly. "I had to siphon the piss out of it, it was full to the brim. Then it turned out the source of the clogging was this giant wad," he held up his hands to demonstrate how big it was, "of pubes, and when I pulled it out, it slapped me in the face."

"So you're, uh, covered in pee?" Antonio looked at his hand, which had just a couple minutes ago been rubbing Lovino's wet back, nervously.

"No, no." Lovino dismissed his fears with a wave of his hand. "I washed myself in the sink."

"Oh." Antonio sighed in relief. He got to his feet, then held out a hand for Lovino. "You want a ride?"

Lovino looked up at him with hollow eyes. He should say no, he knew that- accepting Antonio's help and offers of friendship would only lead to him growing soft and trusting him, or, in the worst possible scenario,  _forgiving_ him- but he was too tired to protest anymore, let alone walk home.

Lovino sighed, giving in. "Fine," he grumbled, and took Antonio's hand. His grip was surprisingly strong, and he hauled Lovino to his feet with no problem.

* * *

They got into Antonio's car, which wobbled as Lovino stepped in. It took a couple tries for the door to close properly, but once it did, Antonio could properly smell Lovino.

"You smell like fries and poo," he coughed, holding his nose.

"I know," said Lovino, with a sort of resigned air that told Antonio this was not the first time he had finished work smelling like this.

"So, uh, where do you live?" asked Antonio, speaking as best he could while holding his nose. Lovino hesitated, thinking of his small, dirty room; the wallpaper stained with smoke; the shower that ran brown and at a slow drizzle and never heated up.

"I don't want to go home," he said eventually.

"O-Okay," said Antonio, a little startled. "Then where should I take you? We could go to my place, or your brother's-"

"Your place," said Lovino immediately.

"You- you're sure?" asked Antonio, trying not to sound surprised.

"Yes," confirmed Lovino, looking straight at Antonio. "I want to go to your place."

"Okay," said Antonio. His heart seemed to be beating awfully fast, and his face felt hot under Lovino's direct gaze. He managed a quick smile. "Let's go to my place."

* * *

"Sorry it's not much," apologized Antonio nervously, opening the door to his apartment. He lived on the fifth floor of his building, which was little more than an off-white rectangle with seven floors. Each floor jutted out as a balcony, from which the entrances to each apartment room was. Antonio's was 513 B. A staircase connected the floors to each other, and although there was an elevator, it hadn't been working properly since 2005.

It was much comfier inside than it appeared outside; or at least it was in Antonio's case. He had a small bed, and a desk next to it, upon which was an old computer monitor, whirring away loudly. The small Windows 2005 logo bounced around the screen, illuminating the apartment better than the single circular light on the ceiling, which seemed to serve more as a graveyard for lost insects than as a functioning lamp.

The room was messy, but in a kindly, inoffensive way: lost socks and old jeans were piled randomly in corners; the sink was full of unwashed dishes, upon which a fat fly buzzed lazily; the trash can was overflowing with instant ramen cups and wadded tissues, which also littered the floor near Antonio's bed; and there were tape remains from posters that had long since fallen off the beige walls and joined their forgotten brethren under Antonio's bed.

"If I had known you were coming, I would have cleaned up," continued Antonio nervously, darting to and fro and collecting the wadded tissues and stray underwear and shoving them all under his bed.

"It's fine," said Lovino stepping in gratefully. "I don't mind." He sank down onto Antonio's bed and then flopped sideways, so he was lying on his side with his torso twisted around, knees bent over the edge. Something crinkled under Antonio's pillow and he frowned, sitting up again.

"Wait- no, don't-" Antonio began to say, but Lovino had already lifted the pillow, exposing the source of the noise:

The letter he had written Antonio, so long ago, was nestled neatly beneath the pillow, along with a photo of himself- the one Antonio had taken in the hospital, he remembered so vividly it hurt- and a note he had scribbled, saying only 'thanks.'

Lovino's face- no, his whole body- flushed, throbbing with heat and embarrassment and he quickly dropped the photo and letter as if it burned.

"I'm sorry- I'm so so so sorry- I don't know what that's doing there- I must have misplaced it while cleaning- I'm-" stammered Antonio helplessly.

"You just… walked away." Lovino lifted his head slowly, stared at Antonio with depthless, saddened eyes. The McDonalds visor tilted limply on his soggy curls, and the wet shirt clung to his thin shoulders. The bags under his eyes appeared to weigh more than he did, and for the millionth time that day, Antonio cursed himself for ever hurting him.

"How could you walk away?"

"I'm sorry," whispered Antonio, rooted to the spot.

"Sorry?" repeated Lovino listlessly. "'Sorry' doesn't help anything! Do you know what you  _did_ to me?!" He leaned forward, rubbing his face with his hands. "You- you knew I had trust issues, I was afraid of being left behind, and you still- still-!"

"I'm sorry." Antonio felt like a wooden puppet, unable to move, unable to feel; the only words he could say was 'I'm sorry;' over and over again until he wasn't even sure to whom he was apologizing, himself or Lovino.

"For  _years_ I've been wondering what I did wrong, what I could have done to make you stay- do you know how painful that is? How exhausting? I've spend years blaming myself for something  _you_ did, and all you can say is 'sorry?!'"

Antonio opened his mouth to say sorry once again, but no words came out. "Wha- what else can I say?" he croaked, voice barely a whisper.

"The truth!" yelled Lovino, getting off the bed and stomping over to Antonio. "Tell me the truth, for once!" He crabbed Antonio by the collar, yanked him inches from himself. "Why'd you do it? Why'd you leave?!"

"I-" stammered Antonio.

"Just say it!" screamed Lovino, his face screwed up as if he were in pain. "Tell me! Tell me you h- hate me!" His jaw trembled, and his eyes glistened strangely, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. "I know you do!"

"I don't hate you," said Antonio softly.

"Yes, you do! How could you leave like that, if you don't hate me? If you really liked me, you wouldn't be able to!"

"But I don't!" cried Antonio, reaching up and grabbing Lovino by the shoulders. "I don't hate you, I never could!"

"Then why?! Why'd you do it? Why'd you leave?!"

"Because I was afraid!" blurted Antonio, unsure of what he was saying, even as he was saying it, but unable to stop. Lovino blinked, his hands growing slack on Antonio's lapel. They fell limply to his side, swung a bit.

Antonio's grip on his shoulders tightened, his knuckles white. He couldn't find it in him to look Lovino in the eye and lowered his head, staring at his feet. He blinked, and a tear slid freely down his nose and landed on the carpet.

"I was afraid," he continued, voice thick. "I was afraid of- of falling in love with you!"

"You… what?"

"I was afraid of falling in love with you, so I left! I- I thought that if you hated me, it would be easier for me to not love you, but I was wrong, I was too late- I've loved you since the moment I met you and I can't stop! I've tried everything-  _everything-_ and still, for the past four years, have thought of nothing but you!"

"I-" Lovino shook his head, taking a step back. Antonio's hands grew limp, sliding off his shoulders and down his arms slowly, coming to rest at his hands. He made an effort to hold them, but Lovino pulled away quickly, stepping back against the door. He pressed himself against it, wishing he could just melt through and escape, for Antonio's eager green eyes, spotted with tears like dew on grass, were boring through him, waiting for an answer, an answer Lovino had tried his hardest not to think about for four years.

He felt behind him with his hand and grasped the door handle but did not turn it though he willed himself to; his mind and body seemed to be miscommunicating as they did whenever he was around Antonio; and though he wanted nothing more than to run out that door his legs- no, his whole body- was frozen, trembling from head to toe.

"No," he croaked, eyes wide, shaking his head disbelievingly. "You don't. You're lying."

"I'm not, I'm not! I wish I were, but I can't!" Antonio strode over to Lovino, taking his hand desperately and falling to his knees. "Please believe me, Lovi- I love you so much it hurts!"

"No, you don't!" screamed Lovino, wrenching his hand away. He turned the doorknob and the door fell open behind him. He staggered out backwards- it was raining, hard, and the path was slick- he began to fall and grabbed the rail behind him.

"No one does!" he yelled, and the pattering of the rain drowned out Antonio's pleas, seeming to confirm his claim. He stared at Antonio a moment longer; groveling, weeping, pathetic, before turning and bolting down the stairs.

* * *

 _Sorry again for the long wait between chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to quit my second job soon, but until then you might have to wait a while for the next chapter. I'll try to publish a chapter every two weeks from now on, but I can't really promise anything. I_ will  _finish this story, but it may take me a while._


	34. I Miss You

_No,_ thought Lovino briefly, as water splashed up over his shoes and jeans, soaking him all the way up to the knee. His feet collided with wet pavement painfully, and with every step his socks squelched, water leaking out of the sides of his shoes.

_This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to happen._

His legs pumped up and down, breath rasping in his chest.

_Not like this. Not like this._

He shook his head as he ran, water flying off of him like a dog. He was close now, close to home, and relief carried him down the dim street to the back door. With shaking hands he unlocked it- it took several tries, his hands were trembling so badly he couldn't seem to place the key in the lock- and bolted up the stairs. His room was on the second floor and he barged in, slamming the door and leaning against it. Chest heaving, his legs folded underneath him and he slid down against the door to the floor.

It wasn't right, he thought. It wasn't right for Antonio to tease him like that, to give him false hope when he was so blatantly lying. It wasn't right that he could continue to hurt him like this, even though Lovino had sworn that he wouldn't let himself be hurt by _anyone,_ let alone Antonio, anymore.

It wasn't right that even though he was freezing, shivering, something inside him felt hot, burning, almost; that though he had long since stopped running, his heart was still beating against his ribcage with the ferocity of a caged bird that knew the taste of freedom. It wasn't right that even after all these years he had gone hating Antonio, just a single sentence from him was enough to bring all his buried emotions back, burning brighter and more painfully than ever.

"Fuck!" The yell tore itself from his throat, echoing against the peeling wallpaper and the pattering of rain outside on the windowpane. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He banged his head against the door with each 'fuck,' and when his head was aching enough to block out the sounds of rain with the incessant ringing in his ears, he stood up shakily, leaning against the door for support.

He felt a lump in his back pocket and drew it out. His hand shaking with anger, he gripped the battered red Walkman and stared at it, the blue of the tiny screen reflecting off his dark wet skin. The battery icon was flashing in the corner, one bar left. A song was playing; it must have been playing all music all day by accident, and Lovino hadn't heard it because the earbuds were plugged in. His mind foggy, he squinted at the screen, his head still pounding as he tried to read which song it was. He lifted one limp earbud to his ear, but as soon as the familiar strums of guitar mixed with the crooning of Paul McCartney's voice reached him a stone dropped in his stomach and nausea churned within him.

Instantly he wrenched the earbud from his ear and flung the Walkman across the room, where it bounced against the wall and fell to the floor with a dull thud. It offered no relief; the song still continued to play in his head even though he had ceased to listen to the music, except Antonio's low, slightly tone-deaf voice had replaced that of Paul McCartney's as he sung the familiar lyrics:

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

Rage boiled under his skin, and he seized the nearest object, an Italian copy of Franz Kafka's _The Metamorphosis,_ and pitched it off the wall. Next followed Virginia Woolf, then Hemingway, as books ricocheted off the thin wall and scattered over the already filthy floor. Lovino garnered a little pleasure from hearing the bangs of items against the wall and imagining throwing the same at Antonio's idiotic, annoying, grinning, stunning, gorgeous face, but it wasn't enough.

"Bastard!" he screamed, and Shakespeare clattered to the floor.

How dare he? How dare Antonio tease him like that?

" _Idiota!"_ English For Dummies fell to the ground, pages splayed dramatically like limbs.

How dare Antonio fill his brain with false hope? How dare Antonio lie to him yet again, as if Lovino hadn't learned by now not to trust any word that slipped out of his soft, kind lips; lips that looked so gentle, so easy to kiss…

Lovino howled with anger and hurled books, socks, even bottles at the wall. Crashes and shattering of glass drowned out his furious curses, and when he ran out of things to throw he fell to the floor, panting, and crawled over to the milk crate in which he kept his alcohol collection and grabbed a surviving bottle, taking a swig without checking the label to see what it was.

The scent of cheap wine sifted through his nostrils, calming him somewhat. "I hate him," he said aloud, more to convince himself than anything else. "I _hate_ him."

He raised the bottle and took another gulp, swallowing loudly.

"He's a pretentious asshole who lies to get what he wants. He's just _saying_ he loves you because he wants…" Lovino trailed off. What _did_ Antonio want? What did he serve to gain from loving Lovino? What if he was telling the truth, and Lovino had just run off, abandoned him like Antonio had done to him years before?

"He _was_ lying," said Lovino thickly, and took another drink. "And if he wasn't, it doesn't matter, because I sure as fuck don't love _him."_

That's right. Lovino didn't love Antonio. Not him, not anyone. He had given up on that a long time ago. Love, he reflected, only lead to pain, to loss. Everyone he ever loved had died, or betrayed him- he was cursed, by some cruel trick of fate or a sick joke of a malevolent god's.

Even if he did allow himself to love Antonio, for just a second, Antonio would surely die, like all the others had. There was no hope for either of them, at least in the form of some kind of relationship other than distant friendship, he concluded, so there was no point in even trying.

* * *

 

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" Antonio swore, banging his head repeatedly into the door. He was slouched against the closed door of his apartment, and the thin wood reverberated and rattled in its frame every time he hit it with his cranium. He was stupid, so stupid- how could he have been so stupid? Of course that wasn't what Lovino wanted to hear, especially on such an exhausting night as this one had been for him. It was selfish to burden Lovino with his own problems, even more so when he obviously already had more than enough to worry about.

He should have realized that there was no way he could expect a favorable reply, especially since he had shown up in Lovino's life again only a week ago, after his betrayal and several years of no contact between them.

At least now, he reflected, he knew Lovino's answer- or rather, lack of one. Lovino obviously didn't feel the same, and had no interest in seeing or even interacting with Antonio further.

Though it hurt to think of having to stop seeing Lovino, especially after they had only just reunited, it was what Lovino wanted and this time, Antonio was determined to do the right thing.

Even if it meant abandoning his love.

* * *

 

"He loves me, he loves me not." Lovino plucked off a magenta Zinnia petal- it meant 'lasting affection,' Antonio had said when he had presented them to him- and dropped it on the floor by his lap, with the other petals. He was sitting in a sea of velvety polychrome and broken glass shards, and abandoned stems from the other flowers he had destroyed in his fit of romantical superstition were gathered in the empty wine bottle from before.

Lovino pulled off the last petal. "He loves me," he realized, and scowled, throwing the petal and stem to the floor in disgust. All the flowers, no matter the amount of petals or species, had yielded the same response: 'he loves me;' and though Lovino didn't consider himself to be a superstitious person, he had to admit there was something strange about this series of coincidences.

Lovino stared at his alcohol crate longingly. He was drunk enough already, he knew that, having consumed an entire bottle of wine in under an hour, and he had work starting in a couple of hours, but still his body itched for more, _more-_ tequila, rum, wine, sambuca- hell, even vodka would do, though he hated the stuff. He wanted to get so drunk he passed out in a pool of his own vomit and forgot everything about this awful night. He wanted to get so drunk the blood in his veins would turn to alcohol and his liver would shut down. He wanted to get so drunk that nothing and everything simultaneously made sense, and the world whirled around him so fast he couldn't keep up. Without meaning to, his hand crept towards the crate, but he slapped his wrist to stop it.

Though he hated to admit it, a small part of him had felt happy when Antonio made his confession. Why was that? If he really hated Antonio to the extent that he wanted to believe he did, he shouldn't have felt that. The only conclusion, Lovino realized, was that he didn't quite hate Antonio as much as he thought he did.

It was true that he felt a leap of excitement, of joy everytime Antonio walked in to the E-Z Mart, and throughout the day he would find himself wondering what sort of flowers he might bring this time, what shitty joke he would try to tell, what funny anecdote from work he had to share as Lovino ate dinner. But that was probably just Lovino being lonely- he had no other friends, no one else to talk to who seemed to genuinely like him. He was just attached to Antonio because he was the only person who had shown him any interest in a while, that was it. Nothing more.

He would tell Antonio tomorrow, he decided, when he came to visit him at the E-Z Mart till. He could explain that he just wanted to continue to be friends. Antonio would understand. It would all be okay.

* * *

 

9:45 the next evening came and went, and there was no sign of Antonio.

_He's probably late,_ thought Lovino, but 9:50 passed, and then 10:00, and Antonio didn't show up. He waited outside the E-Z Mart, shivering, until 10:15, when he realized that this was too late, even for Antonio, and that he wasn't coming. Still, clinging to one last idiotic shred of hope, Lovino waited for five more minutes, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together, stamping his feet.

He ate alone in the park. The birds, hidden in the trees, tittered playfully, as if laughing at him.

_How pathetic,_ they seemed to say. _Now he has no one._

Secretly Lovino agreed.

There was no duct tape-covered wreck of a car waiting for him in the parking lot behind McDonald's after his shift that night, or the next. Though Lovino wanted to be relieved- and he was, to some extent- he mainly felt the sinking sensation of disappointment, like he had swallowed a rock. These feelings amplified exponentially with every day that Antonio didn't show up; when Lovino ate in the park alone with only the mocking birds for company; when there was no smiling face holding a bouquet of roses or lilies or asters on the other side of his till; when the parking lot behind McDonald's was perpetually full, but seemed empty and desolate with the loss of Antonio's brightly colored Hello Kitty mobile.

It'll pass, he convinced himself, standing at the fryer. He put in a basket in the first vat, and pressed the timer. Antonio would get over it and show up, or Lovino would just forget about Antonio, and things would go back to what they had been before he had showed up that night at E-Z Mart; buying underwear, glitter, and a feather boa, of all things.

Despite himself, Lovino chuckled. That was so like Antonio, to waste a perfectly good ten-dollar bill on glitter and underwear and feather boas. For what purpose could he possibly have needed such a combination of items? He had never gotten the chance to ask him, he reflected, he had been too busy trying to contain his rage and the urge to punch him in the face, wreck that conveniently oversized nose; that gorgeous, stunning, blinding smile; those eyes- holy _fuck,_ those eyes…

A grease bubble popped and a speck of hot grease landed on his exposed forearm, burning him and bringing him back to his senses. The timer was beeping, and he picked up the basket and put it on the rack for the fries to dry.

* * *

 

Lovino stared at the cracked ceiling, cradling a wine glass the size of a soup bowl in his lap.

"This is bullshit," he said to the spider spinning a web in the corner where ceiling met wall.

It had been 8 days since he had run from Antonio, and _still_ he hadn't shown up at the E-Z Mart or McDonald's. Despite the fact that Lovino was desperate to not let Antonio or his confession get to him, he had fallen into a pit of constant, boiling, anger. How dare Antonio say something so sensitive, so bold, that was bound to have some sort of effect on Lovino, and then just _leave,_ abandon him like he had so many times before? What was he playing at, toying with Lovino's emotions so easily? Maybe he was lying: he was _did_ hate Lovino, and this "confession" was all just some sick joke designed to rile him up?

Well, if it was, Lovino had to admit (however begrudgingly) that it was working. Antonio was all he could think about nowadays. It was driving him crazy- the last thing in the world he wanted to think of was Antonio, yet here he was, half-drunk and filled with an absurd longing just to see him, if only to punch him in the face.

He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected would happen following Antonio's confession, but certainly not _this._ In all the romance books and movies he had seen, the confessor always chased desperately after the confessee, trying futilely to win them over with gifts or jokes or kindness, but here Lovino was, sitting in a shitty apartment drinking shitty wine while Antonio just ignored him!

It was as if Antonio were deliberately punishing Lovino for running away, forcing him to realize how much he actually enjoyed his company, no matter how much he pretended he didn't.

Whoever said 'absence makes the heart fonder' was full of shit- 'absence makes the heart angrier and wanting to scalp a bitch' would be more accurate.

He had lasted years without seeing Antonio (if he could call it 'lasting,' they had been some of the worst years of his life), and yet after seeing him just a couple times again he was hopelessly entrapped in the same ugly, churning emotions he had since sworn off when Antonio abandoned him. At this point Lovino wasn't sure who he was more angry at: Antonio for confessing his feelings and then ignoring him; or himself, for letting Antonio get to him.

Lovino took a large gulp of wine to calm himself. If Antonio was too scared to come see Lovino, then he'd just have to go see him himself. It wasn't because he _liked_ Antonio or anything, he told himself. He just missed having a friend; someone to talk to, that was it.

Yet deep down he had a tingling suspicion, a twinge of fear that if he did in fact go see Antonio again, he might not be able to control himself around him. He might give in to his emotions, and that thought terrified him.

* * *

 

Despite his previous doubts, Lovino somehow found himself standing in front of Antonio's apartment, ungodly drunk and clutching as if his life depended on it a paper bag containing a bottle of cheap red wine, the taste of which lay on his tongue like a light film and would not go away; a bouquet of white tulips in his other hand, rain sticking to the petals and glistening in the early morning light like pearls. He swayed slightly with drunkenness, the rain that poured down on him and soaked his clothes doing nothing to sober him up. He reached for the doorbell but could not see straight, and prodded the wall and door of Antonio's apartment several times before by luck his finger landed on the doorbell.

Lovino heard a muffled "Coming!" and several thuds which he could only assume were footsteps. A moment later the door swung open, and standing in the doorway, bathed in yellow light, was Antonio.

He was naked, apart from a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, which he kept one hand on to prevent it from falling. His body was wet, and glistening, and a small puddle had formed under his bare feet on the carpet. Sticking out of one corner of his mouth jauntily like a cigar was a toothbrush. He smelled like AquaFresh and deodorant.

"Uh," slurred Lovino, the words he had been practicing over and over now vanished from his head.

"Lovi?" gasped Antonio, the toothbrush falling out of his mouth and landing on the carpet lightly. His hand went slack, and the towel dropped to the floor.

"Uh," said Lovino again, glancing down. His head was spinning terribly, and he forced himself to try to remember what exactly it was that he had tramped there for in the rain at seven am, despite the glorious distraction that now stood in front of him.

He missed Antonio. Yes! That was it. He missed Antonio, and he had come here to tell him so.

"I miss you," Lovino told Antonio's penis, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Oh wow. Um." Antonio desperately tried to cover himself with his hands as best he could.

"It's big," pointed out Lovino, transfixed. "Your hands can't even cover it all."

Antonio smelled alcohol on his breath and prayed to every god he knew that Lovino would pass out and not remember this the next morning.

"Thanks?" he said slowly, cringing. They stood, for a moment, Antonio petrified with embarrassment, and Lovino, swaying slightly, rain beating down on his head. Slowly Lovino raised his hand and took a swig from his bottle, never once breaking eye contact with Antonio's penis.

"Why don't you come inside?" Antonio offered shakily, finally remembering his manners. He took a step back and picked up the towel, covering himself once more with a sigh of relief. Lovino looked disappointed, but stepped in. He set down the bottle and thrust the flowers at Antonio violently. He took them gratefully.

"White tulips?" he realized aloud. "They mean forgiveness- Lovi, does that mean you-"

He was cut off abruptly as Lovino took a step forward into the interior of his apartment and promptly toppled over, bringing Antonio down with him.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, even though it wasn't his fault. He rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the floor. "You okay?" He lifted his head to look at Lovino, whose head was on his chest, legs tangled with his own.

Lovino mumbled something incoherent, eyes closed. Antonio couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. He lay his head back on the floor, sighing.

"You missed me, huh?" he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else. He couldn't suppress a grin.

"Of course I did!" burst out Lovino, suddenly raising himself into a sitting position on top of Antonio, straddling his torso. "You're my only friend, and then you- you go off spouting nonsense-" he burped, loudly, "About loving me, and then just ignore me! Who the hell does that?!"

He reached for his bottle and took a swig.

"I thought you wanted to be left alone!" protested Antonio, but Lovino ignored him, continuing his drunken rant.

"You just… waltzed back into my life after years of no contact, and barely a week after you declare you love me! What is _wrong_ with you?!"

He stabbed at Antonio's bare chest violently with his index finger, then continued.

"I mean, it's been… what? Three years? Four? I've- I've changed a lot, I'm not the same pathetic little Lovino that was hopelessly in love with you and would do anything to get your attention! For one, I know better, and I sure as _fuck_ don't- don't love _you!"_ His lip trembled slightly as he said these last few stuttering words.

"Do you know how that feels? To hear something like _that,_ three years too late? And then to be abandoned and ignored again? Are you _trying_ to drive me crazy?!"

"I…" Antonio stuttered, completely boggled by this sudden declaration. Lovino had been in love with him this whole time, and he had never even noticed, let alone consider it? "I had no idea- you were in love with _me?"_

" _Yes,_ dammit!" exclaimed Lovino as if it were obvious. Antonio flinched as his wine breath hit him. "And it was the biggest mistake I ever made, falling in love with an idiot like _you_ , who can only think about himself and what he's going to eat next!"

"Oh my god." Antonio ran his hands through his hair nervously. "Holy shit. Fuck."

"Yeah." Lovino poured the remains of the bottle in his mouth, burped loudly, and threw the empty bottle to the side. "You fucked up."

"You don't... still love me do you?" asked Antonio hopefully, but his wavering hopes were crushed by the intense glare Lovino shot him.

"Are you _insane?"_ he yelled. Antonio flinched at the harsh loudness of his voice. "Do you not remember what you did? How could I still love you? I've spent the last few years hating you!"

"Wait, but," started Antonio, pushing himself into a rough sitting position. "You just said you missed me. You even brought me flowers! You must at least feel _something_ for me!"

"I don't know what you mean," muttered Lovino, looking away.

"Wha- you brought me flowers! Look! White tulips, they mean forgiveness!" Antonio grabbed the fallen bouquet, waving it in front of Lovino's face.

"Don't think I forgive you because of the flowers. They were just on sale," huffed Lovino angrily. "And I _don't_ like you, I was drunk and lonely and thinking of you so I came here, and now I'm just drunk and angry!"

"See!" Lovino pointed a finger at Antonio accusingly. "This is what you do to me! I hate you so much, and yet- yet-" All of a sudden, his body tensed, face contorting as if he were in pain. "And yet I can't stop thinking about you!" he blurted, covering his face with his hands. "I hate it so much, I hate _you_ so much- I can't get you out of my head, no matter how much I want to! I'm supposed to be hating you; and I do, I do hate you, but at the same time I can't resist you and I hate it! I hate who I'm becoming, I hate that I can't do anything right, that I can't make up my mind, and it's all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, though he wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for. Watching Lovino choke back sobs, he felt a painful tightness in his chest, and couldn't resist leaning forward and wrapping his arms tightly around him, rocking him back and forth on his lap.

"I hate you so much," sobbed Lovino, laying his head on Antonio's shoulder.

"I know," sighed Antonio, resigning himself to the fact that he would always be utterly confused by the disconnect between Lovino's words and actions. One minute he was cursing and insulting Antonio, and the other he'd be practically seducing him with affectionate glances and near-flirtatious touches and embraces. What confused Antonio even more was how much he loved it.

* * *

_Hello, sorry for such a long hiatus. A lot has happened, and I was in the hospital for a month and a half, and then rehab for another month after that, and I'm just now figuring out what to do next and how to pay all these bills. I lost my jobs, but hopefully once I get everything sorted out I'll be able to write more. I really like this story and I want to finish it, and I want to do a good job and continue writing even after this one is finished, so please don't give up on me!_

_Thank you to everyone who takes time to read my stories. It really means a lot to me when you like my writing and review, and it's helped motivate me to finish this story. Thank you so, so, so much._


	35. I'm Always Nice

They stayed like that for a few minutes, even though Lovino had stopped crying and promptly fell asleep shortly after Antonio had started to hug him. The small space between their bodies was unbearably hot, and yet a chill was spreading through him, like a block of ice was dissolving in his stomach and diffusing into his blood.

Lovino had been in love with him this whole time, and he haven't even noticed once? Inwardly Antonio cursed himself. How could he be so stupid? Lovino had loved him- _him-_ and Antonio had thrown that love away, and now there was no chance of ever getting it back again.

No. Antonio shook his head, rearranging his thoughts. Lovino had come to his apartment of his own accord, at a time when he must have been very tired after work, no less, for the sole purpose of telling Antonio that he missed him. That must mean _something,_ no matter how much Lovino insisted it didn't. And he had said, hadn't he, that he couldn't stop thinking about Antonio? That he couldn't resist him? Lovino may have been flat-out drunk and vaguely incoherent, but his words seemed to hold truth in them.

Perhaps, Antonio thought to himself, there was some part of Lovino that was still in love with him. And if that was true, then maybe it wasn't totally impossible for Lovino to fall in love with him again.

As Lovino snored, slumped over Antonio's naked body, Antonio began to grin despite the drool leaking onto his shoulder. He still had a chance. A tiny, miniscule, almost zero chance, but a chance nonetheless. And he would do everything in his power to nurture that chance, to make Lovino fall in love with him again.

* * *

Antonio tucked Lovino into his bed, making sure to place him on his side so he didn't drown in his vomit. He had had a bit of a crisis in deciding whether to remove his soaked clothes or not, and finally settled on peeling off his shirt and pants, leaving on his underwear and hanging the sodden clothing from the shower bar to dry. Beside him he placed a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a note upon which he scribbled the name and location of the elementary school he worked at and his cellphone number. Hoping Lovino wouldn't be too mad when he woke up, Antonio cast one last glance at his sleeping form before heading out the door for work.

* * *

It was half past eleven when Antonio received a call from an unknown number. He was on his lunch break, sitting in the teacher's lounge with some coworkers, and answered it hesitantly. Unluckily, he forgot that his phone was still set on speakerphone mode, and as soon as he pressed the green answer button, Lovino's loud, angry, heavily-accented voice filtered out and filled the room.

"Did we fuck?!" demanded Lovino loudly, shocking the lounge into stunned silence. A pitiful whimper was all Antonio could manage in response, sensing the eyes of his coworkers on him.

"You bastard, did we fuck?" continued Lovino, unaware that half the staff of the local elementary school was listening. "I woke up in your bed in just my underwear, my clothes are hanging in your shower, and the only thing I remember from last night is your giant fucking _cock!_ I mean, seriously, what the hell- I knew you were tall but-"

"Lovi, darling, can we please talk about this later?" whispered Antonio, a cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

"Don't fucking 'darling' me, you assmonkey! Tell me what the fuck happened last night or- or-"

"Okay, okay, I got it! I'm going to call you back, okay?" hissed Antonio into the microphone, Lovino's protests blaring in his ear, and promptly ended the call.

Slowly, he forced himself to turn around to face his coworkers, and with a forced, twitching, smile, apologized and excused himself from the room.

As soon as he was out of earshot of his coworkers, Antonio redialed Lovino, making sure to turn off speakerphone as he did so.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "But I can talk now, at least for," he glanced at his watch, "the next ten minutes."

"You better," threatened Lovino.

"You showed up at my door, really drunk, with flowers, and told me you missed me," explained Antonio. "There was no sex involved."

"Then why the _fuck_ can't I get the image of your massive dong out of my head- it's _taunting_ me- fucking hell, you could stab someone with that monster!"

" _Please_ stop talking about my dick," pleaded Antonio, his face burning with embarrassment. "It's not even that big! And we didn't have sex, I promise! You came when I had just gotten out of the shower, and I was in a towel, and then I sort of… dropped the towel, and now you won't shut up about my dick!"

"So we didn't have sex."

"No," affirmed Antonio, hearing a sigh of relief from Lovino. "But you _did_ confess your undying love for me," he smirked.

"I did _not."_

"You did, you did!" insisted Antonio. "I mean, in a drunken, very angry and profane sort of way, and then you randomly started to cry and then passed out on top of me, but you _totally_ were all like-" he raised his voice to a higher pitch and put on a fake Italian accent- "' _Oh, Antonio, I can't stop thinking about you! I was in love with you all those years ago, and now, I can't resist you! Please, take me and make me yours, I love you!'"_ He reverted back to his normal voice. "Like that," he said, internally laughing at what he imagined Lovino's expression was like right now.

There was a pause.

"You're shitting me," said Lovino, trying to sound firm, but Antonio detected a little quiver in his voice. Antonio chose not to answer.

"You're- you're not shitting me," whispered Lovino, realization dawning in his voice.

"I'm not shitting you," affirmed Antonio. "Well," he admitted, "except for that last bit. I made that up. But you _did_ say that you used to be in love with me. It was really kind of cute, until you started swearing at me and then passed out."

Antonio waited for a response but there was none.

"Hello?" he asked. "You there?"

" _Dio mio,"_ Antonio heard Lovino moan. "Why did it turn out like _that?_ Even having sex would have been better than this!"

"I mean, if you want to, I'm definitely not opposed to the idea," proffered Antonio, grinning to himself.

" _No!"_ Antonio winced as Lovino yelled through the receiver. "Godammit, can't you ever take anything seriously? This is really fucking embarrassing for me, and you're turning it into a joke!"

"Embarrassing? All you did was admit that, several years ago, you used to be in love with me. Hell, I should be the embarrassed one- you know that I'm _still_ in love with you, and you've seen my dick and won't shut up about it! It's honestly not a big deal, Lovi, and I don't think any less of you. Truthfully, I'm quite flattered."

"That's not it! The fact that _I_ was in love with- with _you,"_ Lovino shuddered, "is what's embarrassing! And now that you know, you're not going to shut up about it. _That's_ what's embarrassing."

Antonio paused, thinking. "Well," he said, ignoring Lovino's jab at how the fact that it was Antonio that he had fallen in love with was embarrassing, "I promise I won't bring it up or tease you about it if you stop talking about my dick. Deal?"

"Deal," agreed Lovino, sounding relieved. "But you're not totally off the hook. I'm still mad at you."

"Huh? What'd I do _now?"_

There was a pause. "I don't know," admitted Lovino. "I'm generally mad at you anyways. I'll figure it out later."

"Well, keep me posted," laughed Antonio.

"I'll tell you when I see you tonight," promised Lovino, and Antonio couldn't stop grinning upon hearing that.

 _When I see you tonight._ It was a simple statement that didn't seem to carry any connotation, but in actuality it was a promise, an affirmation. Everything was okay between them. They were back to normal. The week-long period of nail-biting angst where neither of them knew where their future lay was finally over. And, more importantly, it meant that Antonio still had a chance.

"I can't wait," said Antonio, and he really meant it. "See you then."

"See you," agreed Lovino, and made to hang up, but just as his thumb hovered over the button, Antonio called out,

"Wait!" and Lovino paused.

"I love you," said Antonio.

Antonio held the phone to his ear, holding his breath. It felt like an eternity before Lovino said, in emotionless monotone,

"Ew," and hung up.

* * *

Lovino sat, cross-legged, on the dirty floor of Antonio's apartment, clutching his cell phone. He was cold in just his boxers, but there was a stifling warmth in his chest, spreading through his entire body. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Inside the warmth, there was pain, a tightness, as if invisible chains were tightening around his heart, binding him.

_I love you._

When was the last time he had heard those words? Had he ever? He couldn't remember. Surely his mother had once, or his grandfather, but as much as he tried desperately to recall even one instance, he came up empty-handed.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be that he was an adult, already twenty-three, and had only just now been told for the first time in his life that he was loved. It couldn't be that the first time someone had told him that they loved him was half in jest, an afterthought. It couldn't be.

* * *

"You look awful," remarked Antonio as Lovino shuffled out of the E-Z Mart and lit up a cigarette under the watchful yellow lightbulb hanging from the awning of the store.

"Thanks," replied Lovino sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Antonio hadn't been lying, though- his eyes were rimmed with red, dark bags hanging under them. He still smelled faintly of alcohol.

"I left you some aspirin, did it help? How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm being skullfucked by Satan's barbed penis. But thanks for asking." Lovino drew heavily on his cigarette. His eyes closed in satisfaction, small clouds of smoke blowing out his nostrils as he exhaled.

"You really should quit," said Antonio, as he always did. Lovino didn't answer, just blew smoke and stared vacantly at the cloud that formed.

Antonio sighed, and held out a paper bag. "I made you a sandwich," he said. "Cheese and tomato."

"You didn't have to," said Lovino, but took the bag anyway.

"I know, but I like cooking for you. Besides," grinned Antonio, "you can pay me back sometime and make me pizza or churros again."

Lovino stared at him, expressionless, for a moment, before dropping his gaze and chuckling softly. He finished his cigarette and dropped it, grinding it with the heel of his shoe. "Let's go," he said.

"The park?" asked Antonio.

"You fucking know it."

* * *

"You didn't tell me you worked at a school," said Lovino, sitting down on their usual bench and unwrapping the sandwich.

"You never asked."

Lovino stared at the ground. "Sorry," he said, feeling guilty. It had only just occurred to him that he had never asked Antonio about what had transpired in the years they were apart, instead always using their time to berate and insult him.

"What, uh… what happened to wanting to be a therapist?" he asked, cheeks slightly pink. He still couldn't seem to look straight at Antonio without remembering their conversation on the phone that morning.

"Well.." Antonio chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. It was something he always did when he was nervous, Lovino remembered, and he wondered what Antonio was feeling nervous about. Could it be that even he felt awkward about the previous night despite having acted nonchalant on the phone?

"After, you know, that whole fiasco with Italy, and trying to be, like, a mediator between you and your grandad, which I totally failed at, I kinda realized that maybe I wasn't exactly cut out to be trying to help other people with their problems, when I can't even effectively deal with my own. I got really depressed, and started drinking, and skipping classes. You know. Eventually I failed two of my most important classes, and barely passed my other ones. I moved back in with my mom- I know, it's pathetic, but I was already in so much debt I couldn't afford the dorms anymore. My mom's kind of a religious lady, and when our church needed teachers for sunday school, she volunteered me. At first I was pissed, because I just wanted to lay in bed and be an emo shit," Antonio laughed, staring at his hands in his lap.

"But it was pretty fun, and the kids were cute, and even though most of it was bullshit, it helped me get back to normal. I went back to school, switched majors to education, and…" Antonio stretched, yawning. "Here I am. Working at an elementary school. I teach Spanish and music, and I also tutor special ed kids after school."

"That… sounds nice," commented Lovino, not entirely sure what to say.

"It's fun. Of course, it also sucks sometimes. The pay is shit, and I'm still $40,000 in debt from college. Plus little kids can be very puke-y. But overall, I love my job." Antonio turned to Lovino.

"What about you?" he asked. "What happened with you while I was gone?"

"Uh..." stammered Lovino, put on the spot. Suddenly his mind seemed to blank on the previous years, and under Antonio's gaze he could feel himself becoming more and more nervous, and he struggled to even speak.

"N- Not much, I guess," he muttered, tearing his eyes away and staring at his half-eaten sandwich. For some reason his heart was beating faster than usual, and all that filled his head was Antonio's voice, slightly atonic from the phone interference, saying _I love you_ over and over again.

"Sorry," apologized Antonio, and placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder, startling him. "I put you on the spot. You can tell me another time." He winked, and Lovino's heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks," he said. It was cold outside, but his face was burning hot. He was just glad it was getting dark so that Antonio couldn't see how red he was. "Thanks also for the sandwich. It's good."

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Antonio.

"Huh?" Lovino looked up, confused. Antonio placed a hand on his forehead.

"You're unusually nice tonight," explained Antonio. "You don't seem to be running a temperature, though."

"Of course not!" spat Lovino, smacking his hand away. "What the hell are you saying? I'm always nice, you bastard!"

To his anger, Antonio merely laughed. "There you are," he said. "There's my Lovino."

"The fuck? I'm not 'your Lovino,' you ass!"

"Not yet," teased Antonio. "But soon."

Lovino scoffed. "In your dreams."

"And hopefully in reality as well, soon."

Lovino grimaced. "Ew. You're gross."

"Says the guy who slept in a dumpster."

"It wasn't _in_ a dumpster, it was _next_ to a dumpster. There's a difference. And it wasn't as if I had a choice." Lovino crossed his arms angrily.

"True," admitted Antonio, sobering up. "I'm sorry."

Lovino harrumphed, finishing his sandwich. He tossed the bag in the garbage and stood up, stretching. "I have to be getting to McDick's soon," he said.

"I'll walk with you," offered Antonio, getting up as well.

Antonio couldn't see Lovino's face, but he imagined a soft smile gracing his lips as he said, illuminated by the rising moonlight, "I'd like that."

* * *

Antonio tied Lovino's apron in the parking lot, as usual. Despite Lovino's previous affirmation that he was fine, Antonio couldn't help but notice he seemed a lot quieter than usual, and when he did speak, it was stiffly, as if forced.

"Did I do something wrong?" mused Antonio, mainly to himself as he tied the final knot on Lovino's apron.

Lovino turned his head to look at him. "No," he said, though he seemed unsure himself. "Why?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Antonio wasn't sure how to say it without offending Lovino again. "You really do seem a bit.. different tonight. I know I promised I wouldn't bring it up, but if you're worried, or embarrassed about last night, you don't have to be. It's really oka-"

"It's not that," interjected Lovino suddenly, facing away so Antonio couldn't read his expression.

"Then what?"

"Earlier, on the phone- do you remember what you said?"

Antonio scratched his head. "I said a lot of things."

Lovino groaned irritably. "No, what you said before hanging up."

"Bye?"

"Before that."

"See you later?"

"No, dammit! You- You said 'I love you.'"

"Oh yeah, that's right. And?"

"Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it. I've told you before that I love you. It's not really a secret anymore." Antonio chucked abashedly. "Why do you ask?"

"N-No reason." Lovino paused for a moment. Antonio noticed that his hands were clenched into fists, hanging by his sides. "It's just… that was the first time anyone's said that to me."

Antonio's grin faded. He licked his lips nervously, not sure what was the right thing to say, or if there even was a 'right' thing to say to something like that.

"I'm sorry," he decided eventually.

Lovino shook his head. "It's okay," he said, but he sounded doubtful, as if he were trying to convince himself that it was when it wasn't. "You didn't know. It's just-" He fell short.

"Just?"

"No," Lovino shook his head. "It's nothing. Never mind."

"Okay," said Antonio dubiously. He held his arms out limply. "You want a hug before work?" he asked, half jokingly.

He expected Lovino to refuse, curse him out, and maybe throw in a quick punch as usual, but to his surprise, following the conventional eye rolls and disdainful scoff, Lovino granted him a rare half-smile and said, "Sure."

* * *

Wrapped in Antonio's muscled arms, Lovino couldn't help but think the words he had almost said just a moment ago, before he had broke off.

_Why did it have to be you?_

_Why are you making it so hard for me to not fall in love with you?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the hiatus. Thank you all for reading, and for your reviews, it really means a lot to me.
> 
> Thank you also for your concern, I'm doing much better now, and am even starting to be able to walk again! I've enrolled in community college, and hopefully will be able to get some sort of job soon. Thanks so so so much for reading my story, it really means a lot when people like what I do.


	36. Overactive Imagination

Antonio awoke with a start, covered by a worn Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blanket in the backseat of his car, to the sound of someone banging on the window. Reluctantly he sat up, breath rising in clouds above him.

"Hey," he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"You alright in there?" Lovino's voice was muffled through the glass, fogged up from both years of use without a proper wash and the early morning condensation. "Aren't you cold?"

"I'm a'ight." Antonio yawned, trying to cover the fact that he was shivering with his blanket. "You need a ride?"

"Sure, but I'll drive. You're too sleepy, it's dangerous."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," insisted Antonio, pulling his shirt back on and getting out of the backseat and into the driver's seat. "Where to, my lady?"

"Your place. And I'm not your lady." Lovino flicked Antonio in the side of his head.

"Duly noted." Antonio grinned, then paused. "My place? Not yours?"

"You heard it." Lovino leaned back in the seat, yawning and stretching. He turned his head to look at Antonio. "There a problem?"

"No," said Antonio slowly. "Just… why my place? You _do_ have your own place, right? You're not still homeless?"

"Relax." Lovino patted Antonio's shoulder. "I'm not homeless. Your place is just nicer than mine, that's all."

"You sure? I worry about you."

"You worry about me? Worry about yourself, you'll freeze to death if you keep sleeping out here without a shirt! I know you don't like wearing shirts while you sleep, but if you insist on waiting for me in the cold at least wear _something!"_

"I can't believe _you're_ lecturing me on not sleeping in the cold," grumbled Antonio, but he started up the ignition.

"What was that?" snapped Lovino, but Antonio stepped on the gas and the car jolted backwards with enough force to quiet him.

* * *

"Here." Antonio tossed a spare t-shirt at Lovino. "You can borrow this for pajamas if you want."

"Thanks," said Lovino, seating himself on Antonio's bed and crossing his legs slyly, "But I prefer to sleep naked."

"You- wha-" stammered Antonio, his face growing red as his imagination began to take flight, mind-generated images of Lovino, his bare legs peeping coyly out from the sheets, his back curved, hair astray, flitted across his mind's eye.

"I'm teasing you. Teasing!" Lovino waved his arms, trying to regain Antonio from the depths of his mind. "Stop imagining things, ya perv."

"R-Right. Sorry." Antonio looked at his feet. "I should, uh, get to work. You know my number, right?"

"Yeah, but I'll probably be sleeping. Can I use your shower, though?"

"Sure. I have an extra toothbrush in the medical cabinet, also, so feel free to use it."

"Thanks. You're the best," said Lovino offhandedly, getting up and heading towards the bathroom.

" _Really?_ " gasped Antonio, eyes sparkling.

Lovino paused at the bathroom door. "Ew. No. Nevermind," he grimaced.

"Aaw." Antonio's face drooped comically. He stuck out his lower lip and batted his eyes sadly at Lovino, making him laugh.

"Stop being cute and go to work," commanded Lovino, still giggling a bit.

"So you think I'm cute?" grinned Antonio, waggling his eyebrows.

"N-No! I never said that!" stammered Lovino, his ears red. "I, uh, I'm gonna shower." He entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A couple moments later, to Antonio's amusement, he opened the door a crack and peeked out. "Go to work," he ordered, and closed it once more.

* * *

"Oh, god, I'm so glad you're here," breathed Lovino, taking off his E-Z Mart vest and cap and placing them carefully in his bag. "I've had the most awful day at work. Some old dude got mad at me because I wouldn't take his expired coupons from 1987! Like, what the hell? And then three- _three-_ moms got mad at me and wanted to 'speak to the manager.' _Three!_ Can you believe that? And they all look the same, too- what is it about these white soccer moms, do they have some sort of cult where they all pick out the same clothes and hairstyles and then convene at local supermarkets to ruin underpaid minimum wage worker's days?!"

"That sucks," agreed Antonio, trying to hide a yawn and failing. "Sorry," he apologized quickly when he noticed Lovino's piercing stare. "I'm not bored, just-" he yawned again, "tired."

"Yeah, of course you are, because you keep on sleeping in that car!" admonished Lovino. "I'm telling you, I'm fine, I can walk home, I have a coat and all. You need to worry about yourself, it's getting cold and you're not getting proper sleep either. You'll get sick."

"And I'm telling you I'm _fine,"_ Antonio insisted, sniffing. "It's my choice."

Lovino sighed, defeated. "Whatever." He shoved his hands in his pockets and, as always, drew out a cigarette and lit it. "Let's go eat."

* * *

 

"Want some?" Lovino offered Antonio a bite.

"I'm fine, thanks," he refused. There was an itch in the back of his throat and he could feel a cough swelling up, but fought to suppress it. If he appeared sick in any way, he knew Lovino would worry and make sure he stopped sleeping in his car. It was crazy, he accepted, to try and sleep in his car for the whole winter, but in some way, he felt it was worth whatever illness came his way to spend those extra few minutes with Lovino, to assist him in any way he could. Lovino was so busy he had no time outside of work for anything other than eating or sleeping, so if Antonio could occupy even the smallest slivers of time between his jobs and his sleep, he would be happy.

He wasn't doing this for Lovino, he came to realize. He was doing it for himself. During the day, whether it was at work or at home or at the gym or anywhere, he missed Lovino desperately. The times when he got to see Lovino he was the happiest- not just as someone in love with him, but as someone who also considered him his best friend.

Even when Lovino wasn't with him, he still occupied his thoughts fully. Antonio often found himself thinking of him at the most inopportune times- in line at the grocery store, while cleaning up his students' crayons and markers after class, while showering. At times like these, he would be filled with the sudden urge just to talk to him, to see him, to hold him, so much that it occupied his entire being. He ached for his companionship so much that it hurt, so much that losing sleep and health just for a couple hours with Lovino seemed perfectly sensible.

"So then I said, sorry, we don't have that item in stock anymore, and you know what she did? She asked if-"

"Why do you have to work so much?" Antonio's sudden question cut off Lovino's rant prematurely. He hadn't even realized he had said it aloud, until Lovino fell silent, his fork poised in midair.

"S-Sorry," Antonio apologized quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Lovino sighed and put his fork down slowly, staring into the tupperware container holding his dinner balanced on his knees as if it would provide some sort of answer for him. The tension in his shoulders released and he slumped forward.

"If you don't wanna talk about it that's okay, it's not really any of my business," stammered Antonio. "I was just… wondering."

"No, it's fine. Really." Lovino poked at his food with his fork. "It's nothing shocking, or abnormal. I'm just, you know. In debt."

"Debt?" asked Antonio. "How much debt?"

Lovino raised his head slightly, eyes staring straight ahead vacantly. "A lot," he answered.

Antonio frowned. "From what? What happened? Is it like… mafia or something? Are you in trouble with the mafia?!"

Lovino laughed. The sound was hollow. "The mafia? What, you think all southern Italians are in the mafia or something?"

"S- Sorry," apologized Antonio sheepishly.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I've got a lot of medical debt. That's it. Nothing alarming."

"From your grandfather?"

"No. He's all taken care of. In Italy we have actual healthcare, so there was no problem. It's from when I was in the hospital here," he explained. "The pneumonia and all of that. I had no insurance or anything, and the medical bills were ginormous. The ambulance, the medication, the surgery- even just the room I was staying in was several hundred a night, and I was there for almost two weeks. It all adds up."

"Oh my god." Antonio covered his mouth with his hand in shock. "What are you going to do?"

Lovino shrugged. "What I always do. Work my ass off for a couple years until it's all paid off, and then figure out the rest from there."

"But can't you… can't your brother help pay for it or something? I mean, his paintings must sell for a lot, right? Or… or get a loan, maybe?"

"No loans," said Lovino firmly. "And I'm _not_ asking my brother for help."

"But-"

"It's my fault I got ill and ended up in debt. Why should he need to pay for it? Besides," added Lovino. "It's got nothing to do with him. I don't need his help."

"Does he even know?"

"Why should he?" Lovino's voice was sharp. "It's none of his business."

"If you work yourself half to death it is! It's okay to ask for help sometimes."  
"I don't need his help," insisted Lovino stubbornly, crossing his arms. "I don't need anyone's help."

"But Lovi, can't you see? This is exactly what happened five years ago, what got you sick in the first place! If you work too hard and don't ask for or accept help, you'll get sick, and have even more debt! You don't have to carry the entire weight of the world on your shoulders, Lovino. You can ask for help."

"I don't need help," Lovino repeated. "I'm not weak. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not saying you're weak," Antonio told him. "I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying!" Lovino's voice was loud and sudden, shocking both Antonio and himself. Several birds that had been nesting in a nearby tree took flight at the sound, and the silence that followed his interruption was punctuated with the beating of wings.

"I'm sorry," apologized Lovino, his tone quiet and hushed, a contrast from his prior opposition.

"It's fine," said Antonio, also quietly. A couple birds cautiously returned to the tree. "It's really none of my business. I shouldn't have intruded like that."

"Don't worry about it," Lovino assuaged, but something about his stiff, unnatural pose and the almost robotic quality of his voice indicated that not everything was fine.

They sat in silence awkwardly for several following minutes. Antonio cracked his knuckles one at a time, a nervous reflex, and every minute or so there was a sharp _pop,_ incongruous with the stillness of the night. Lovino chewed slowly, meticulously; taking tiny bites of his food and chewing for a full minute before swallowing. With every irregular _pop_ of Antonio's knuckles Lovino jumped, and after several minutes of obstinate silence interspersed with _pop_ s he finally blurted out,

"Will you stop cracking your fucking knuckles?!"

"S-Sorry," apologized Antonio meekly. "I didn't realize it was bothering you."

Lovino huffed angrily. "Whatever," he said haughtily, and stood up, dusting crumbs off his pants. "Let's go to work. And _don't,"_ he added, pointing an accusatory finger at Antonio, "wait up for me and sleep in your car. You're going to get sick."

"Don't nag me about getting sick when _you're_ the one working two jobs, sleeping under four hours every night, and living off of wine and gummy worms."

"Fuck you. I'm an adult, I can do what I want."

"Including self-destruction?" suggested Antonio wryly.

Lovino glared at him, pinning his McDonald's cap to his head. "Does it look okay?" he asked, changing the subject.

"A bit lopsided," Antonio responded. "Here, let me," he offered, stepping closer so that he was barely a foot away from Lovino. He removed his cap, tucking it under his arm.

"Your hair is messy," he said. "That's why it's not sitting right. Lemme fix it for you."

"Th- Thanks." Lovino was thankful for the dark, his face felt so hot he was surprised steam wasn't coming out of his ears like a teapot. His heartbeat was thumping in his ears, and he wondered if from this close, Antonio could hear it too. They were close enough that he could feel Antonio's body heat, could hear the small puffs of his breath, smell the undertone of his deodorant against his natural scent, and _god_ he smelled good- Lovino had the strange and sudden urge to bury his face in Antonio's neck and inhale deeply, to run his tongue down his neck and leave blackberry bruises on his collarbone; to take him into his mouth until he was grasping, pulling at his hair, and then and only then would he let go, once his scent was imprinted on him forever.

Oblivious to Lovino's feverish imagination, Antonio licked his hand and ran it through Lovino's hair, smoothing it down in parts. "Don't you brush your hair in the mornings?" he asked.

"I, uh..." Antonio's cool hands running through his hair had completely emptied Lovino's mind, he could not find the words in him to reply. Since when did anyone touching his hair feel so good? Normally, if anyone reached for or tried to touch his hair, he would back away, recoil from their touch; but with Antonio, he found himself craving the physical sensation of his warm fingers dragging through his hair, even having to suppress himself from arching his back, pressing into Antonio's hand like an affectionate cat. Maybe it had just been a while since he had had intimate physical contact with anyone, but something told him that it was only Antonio that could make him feel this way.

"And… there." Antonio pinned the hat back to Lovino's head. "Fixed," he said, grinning at his accomplishment.

"Thanks," Lovino muttered, hunched over oddly, hands in his pockets. "Let's go."

* * *

"I'll, uh, see you later," said Lovino awkwardly, kicking at a loose pebble in the McDonald's parking lot with the toe of his shoe. He still couldn't look Antonio in the eyes after getting a boner from Antonio fixing his hair. Luckily it was dark and he hadn't noticed, or if he had, he hadn't said anything, but just the mere fact alone that he had gotten turned on from such minimal contact was embarrassment enough to hide away in a cave and live as a hermit for the rest of his life.

"Yeah, I'll be here when you get off to give you a ride."

"Don't sleep in your car," admonished Lovino. "I keep telling you, you'll get sick."

Antonio smiled, placing both of his hands on Lovino's shoulders. "Thank you for worrying," he said. "But I'll be fine. Really." And before Lovino knew what was happening, he had bent slightly and pressed his lips momentarily to Lovino's cheek in a fleeting kiss.

"Have a good time at work!" Antonio waved, turning and heading out of the parking lot.

For a moment Lovino stood, paralyzed, one half of his body burning hot with anger, rage, and embarrassment; the other half ice-cold, frozen with fear and sheer, unadulterated fury.

"W-What the fuck was that?!" he yelled at Antonio's retreating figure, clutching his cheek. It still tingled. "What did you just- come back! Come back, dammit! Come back and fight me, you bastard!"

There was no response other than the distant sound of laughter. Lovino stood in the empty parking lot for a couple minutes more, immobilized with shock, before giving up and heading in to work.

* * *

"Hey." Antonio woke with a start to the sound of knocking on his car window. Quickly he pulled on a shirt and opened the door, scrambling to his feet.

"M- Morning," he yawned.

"I thought I told you not to sleep in your car," said Lovino coolly, opening the car door and sliding into the shotgun seat. Antonio walked to the other side of the car, shivering and rubbing his arms, and climbed into the driver's seat, inserting his car key and turning it.

"I wanted to see you," Antonio said simply. His teeth chattered.

"You'll get sick."

Antonio ignored his statement, instead asking, "Where to?"

"Your place," answered Lovino, as usual. He seemed colder towards Antonio than he had earlier that evening, but he tried not to dwell on that, instead trying to start up the engine.

"What was that earlier?" Lovino asked, his tone frosty. He crossed his arms and looked at Antonio pointedly.

"W-What was what?" Antonio sniffed and wiped his nose. His cold was getting worse.

"You kissed me. Earlier. On the cheek."

"So?"

" _So?"_ Lovino repeated incredulously. "Anyone could have seen! And when did I ever say it was okay for you to kiss me?!"

"It was just on the cheek, Lovi." Antonio tried, for a third time, to start the car. "And it was dark. No one would have seen. Besides, it was only a kiss! It's not a big deal."

"Well, it is for me." Lovino crossed his arms huffily. "You're making this really hard for me, you know."

Antonio frowned. "Making _what_ hard for you?"

Lovino flushed deep crimson. "N- Never mind," he stammered. _Making it hard for me to not fall in love with you,_ he had almost said, and mentally kicked himself for nearly giving his secret away.

Finally the car managed to start. Antonio whooped in victory, punching the air with his fist. "Good girl, Betsy!" he exclaimed, patting the wheel.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I still can't believe you named your car Betsy. What is it, a cow? You gonna trade it for some magic beans?"

Antonio laughed. "Hopefully. Some magic beans that grow money trees so I can get rid of all this debt, yours and mine." He pulled into reverse, backing out of the parking lot.

"You know," he said, turning the corner, "I understand how you feel. About the debt, I mean. Wanting to work it off in one go so you don't have to worry about it for the rest of your life. Student loans got me good, that's for sure."

"But," he continued, "If you work yourself half to death trying to get rid of them, you'll just get sick again and accumulate more, and then where will you be? I know it's none of my business, but wouldn't it be easier to just work one job and take it slowly? It'll take longer to pay off, but at least you'll be able to actually have a life."

"I get what you're saying," acknowledged Lovino, "But I'm working minimum wage at the moment. If I just do one job with this current pay, at this rate it'll take me ages to pay it off." He groaned. "I'll be fine," he assured Antonio. "I'm used to hard work."

"Yeah, but still." Antonio stopped at a red light. He sat in silence for a moment, the neon red reflecting off his brown skin. "By the way," he said. "Did you want to bring a box of some of your things over to my place? That way you don't have to keep using my old shirts as pajamas." He laughed, teeth gleaming in the dark.

"But I like wearing your clothes." The words came out before Lovino had a chance to stop them. Quickly he clapped a hand over his mouth, his face burning. "I- I mean-"

"Oh gosh." Antonio's ears were red. "Wow." He took one hand off the wheel and ran it through his hair, a few curls sticking up haphazardly.

"You're too cute, Lovi. You're too fucking cute. If you say cute stuff like that, my heart just might explode." He laughed awkwardly. "Ah. Too late."

"I- I was joking," Lovino stuttered. "Who'd want to wear your smelly old shirts anyway?"

Antonio chuckled, but his eyes looked sad, lonely. "I love you," he said.

"Don't say things you don't mean." Lovino stared out the window, unable to face him. His heartbeat was still thumping inconsistently, cheeks hot.

"I do, though. I really do. I love you, Lovino Vargas. I love you so _fucking_ much." His voice cracked. They turned onto Maple, the street his apartment was on. "And I know you don't feel the same," he continued, "but that won't stop me from loving you. If you ever change your mind, though, I'll be waiting. Even if it never happens, I'll still wait for you."

The car pulled into the parking lot for Antonio's apartment.

"I've waited five years for you to come back," he said. "So I'm sorry if I seem overbearing, or too affectionate. But I just can't help it- all I want is to be with you, Lovi, even if it's just as friends. Please don't push me away, Lovi. Please." He parked, turned the car off, but both of them remained seated, not moving an inch.

Lovino swallowed, his throat dry. "You'll get hurt," he said.

"I'm already hurting."

He shook his head. "I can't. Not again."

"Why not?" Antonio turned to look at Lovino, his eyes hollow.

Lovino shook his head again, his eyes wide, mind blank. He couldn't seem to think of any more excuses. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Antonio waited, but Lovino said nothing, mouth agape. After a while he sighed and unbuckled himself.

"I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, stepping out of the car, as did Lovino. "I got emotional." He let out a sneeze, which turned into a cough. "It's been a long day," he said. "You must be tired. Why don't we go upstairs? You can shower first if you want."

Lovino pursed his lips and stared at Antonio for a moment, as if analyzing something. Finally he gave up and shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground and heading up the stairs to Antonio's apartment.

* * *

Lovino sat on the edge of Antonio's bed, toweling his hair dry. He was wearing one of Antonio's old T-shirts, some free shirt for participating in a 5K run. It was far too big on him, the neckline sagging around his shoulders, his boxers barely peeking out from under the hem, but he liked it that way, it made him feel safe, swathed in Antonio's scent.

The sound of the shower, coming from the bathroom, stopped, and after a minute or so the bathroom door opened and Antonio emerged, steam billowing out from behind him.

"Hey," he greeted, tucking his shirt into his pants. His hair was still wet, and a droplet of water rolled off the bridge of his nose and landed on the carpet.

"Your shirt is buttoned unevenly," Lovino pointed out.

Antonio looked down at himself. Lovino was right; one side of the shirt was buttoned one button higher than the other side, making it uneven. "So it is," he said, beginning to undo it. His wet fingers fumbled with the buttons, slipping off the smooth plastic.

"Here, let me," offered Lovino, getting up off the bed and padding over to Antonio, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He pulled Antonio's shirt out from his trousers and began to unbutton it. "Stop fidgeting," he chastised.

"Sorry," Antonio apologized, shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. "I don't know what to do with my hands. Like," he gestured limply, "Do I put them on your shoulders? On your hips, like we're dancing? Or on _my_ hips? Do they go on my head?"

"If you're so nervous about where your hands go, just put them on my waist," commanded Lovino. He finished unbuttoning Antonio's shirt and pulled it apart, exposing his bare chest and abdomen. He paused for a moment, seemingly fixated by something.

"Uh, are you gonna button it back up, or..?" Antonio asked.

"R-Right. Of course. Sorry." Lovino bit down on his lip. He broke from his trance, and buttoned the shirt again from the bottom up.

"You're not going to tuck it in?" suggested Antonio wryly, smirking.

Lovino scoffed. "Perv." He buttoned the collar and stood for a moment, admiring his work. "See, you look much better now," he commented.

Lovino had forgotten about Antonio's hands resting on his waist, and couldn't suppress a gasp when he was suddenly pulled close, their torsos touching. Antonio readjusted his hold, so that one arm was around the small of Lovino's back and the other hand free, cupping his cheek.

"All thanks to you," he whispered, and winked.

"Y- You're welcome," Lovino stammered. His heart was beating so fast he worried it might explode, the drumming resounding throughout his whole body. _Don't get hard, don't get hard, don't get hard,_ he prayed to any god that might listen, for he was pressed up so tight against Antonio there'd be no way he wouldn't notice.

Antonio's hand left Lovino's cheek and the spot where it had been a moment before felt cold and lonely without the comforting heat it had provided. He half wanted to grab his hand and put it back, have him caress not only his face but his whole body, make him melt and lose himself in the sensation of his touch, but his eyes were locked in fierce contact with Antonio's and for all the strength in him, Lovino couldn't pull his gaze away.

Slowly, Antonio began to lean in. He brushed Lovino's bangs back, exposing his face. _He's going to kiss me,_ Lovino realized, and his heart beat yet faster, from panic or joy he could not tell. His tongue flicked over his lips briefly, already tingling with anticipation, and he closed his eyes, steeling himself.

Lovino waited, eyes closed, lips pursed, but the kiss did not come; at least, not in the form he was anticipating. Antonio softly pressed his lips to Lovino's forehead and held them there for a small eternity. It wasn't until he pulled away that Lovino opened his eyes, trying to hide obvious disappointment.

"Sleep well, okay?" Antonio smiled and released Lovino from his grip. "I'll see you tonight." He gave him one last peck on the cheek and headed out the door, suppressing a cough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever since I last wrote, let alone updated. This chapter was long overdue, but I could never get around to finishing it. The story is coming to an end (finally), there's just a few more chapters left and loose ends to tie up.
> 
> I'm sorry I've basically disappeared from the internet. Rehab and now community college have been eating up what little time for writing that I have. I doubt anyone will actually read my writing now, but at least I got it out there, haha. To anyone who still puts up with me and my long fanfiction, or anyone still trapped in spamano hell, thank you so, so much for reading.


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